


Albatross

by HopeStoryteller



Category: RWBY
Genre: (he has eight kids), (nine if Penny has any say in the matter), (well 6+1 things but that ain't a tag), 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anti-Faunus Racism (RWBY), Bird Qrow Branwen, Birds, Bisexual Qrow Branwen, Cookies, F/F, F/M, Fair Game Week (RWBY), Flirting, Gay, Gay Panic, Henry Marigold is responsible for both of the previous tags, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Hurt No Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Mao - Freeform, Marriage Proposal, Multi, Multiplicity/Plurality, Murphy's Law, Obligatory Ozpin Bullying, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Qrow Branwen, Polyamory, Shade Academy, Transphobia, Tyrian deserves his own content warning, and that fact scares me, no really this fic has made me somewhat nocturnal, starting in chapter 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:10:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23172892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeStoryteller/pseuds/HopeStoryteller
Summary: "Therefore, the albatross can be both an omen of good or bad luck, as well as a metaphor for a burden to be carried as penance" (Wikipedia).Six ways the relationship between Qrow Branwen and Clover Ebi changes over time, and one way it gets very, very interesting. Ft. a whole lot of crow Qrow, threats to break legs, Grand Theft Lunch, and more!
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Ruby Rose, Blake Belladonna/Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Elm Ederne/Vine Zeki, Jaune Arc/Pyrrha Nikos, Joanna Greenleaf/Robyn Hill/May Marigold/Fiona Thyme, Lie Ren/Nora Valkyrie, Marrow Amin/Jaune Arc, Penny Polendina/Ruby Rose, Penny Polendina/Ruby Rose/Weiss Schnee, Penny Polendina/Weiss Schnee, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi, Weiss Schnee/Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 178
Kudos: 195
Collections: fuck roosterteeth all the homies are annoyed with roosterteeth





	1. Please Don't Break The Hot Man's Legs

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my addition to the pile of new fics coming for Fair Game Week! <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six times Qrow handles flirting really, really badly, and one time he does alright.
> 
> Day 1: Flirting/Semblances

Qrow is, generally speaking, fairly observant. Comes with spending enough time as a bird. Birds _have_ to be observant, or they get eaten. It was Qrow’s job, for a while, to be observant, and being observant could still mean the difference between his kids living or dying so it’s even more important now.

But being observant doesn’t always translate to _understanding_ what it is you’re observing. A regular crow, for instance, might witness a crucial conversation between Salem’s pawns but wouldn’t understand it, and certainly wouldn’t be able to relay it back where it’s useful.

Qrow understands the enemy, somewhat. As much as any of them can. For the most part, he understands what he observes, with one notable exception: social cues.

That’s _probably_ why he doesn’t realize he was being flirted with until hours later, on the heels of a conversation with Ruby where he tried to make it clear how _proud_ Summer would be of her.

“Fuck,” Qrow says abruptly, and Ruby startles awake. “Sorry, pipsqueak. Didn’t mean to say it that loud.”

“I’m _seventeen,_ ” Ruby says indignantly.

“So you are.”

“So, you can tell me what the random f-bomb was for!”

Ah. _That’s_ where she’s going with this. She’s sounding more and more like Summer every day. Summer was, admittedly, one of the smartest people he ever knew. Ruby’s the same way. She’ll be a good second opinion at least.

“Alright, alright, quiet down. I have to keep _some_ respect from you lot.” Qrow wraps an arm around Ruby, leans in conspiratorially, and says, “I _think_ he might have been flirting with me.”

“Oh.” Ruby blinks once, twice. “Who, Clover? Yeah, he was definitely checking you out.”

Qrow sighs. “It was that obvious and I’m only picking up on it now?”

“Yep. You don’t want to be flirted with, do you?”

“Uh… what would you do if I said yes?”

“Break his legs,” Ruby says with absolutely no hesitation.

“Please don’t break the hot man’s legs.” Qrow thinks on what he just said, and groans. “I didn’t say that out loud.”

“You didn’t say it _too_ loud?” Ruby grins nervously and pats Qrow on the shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I _will_ break his legs if he tries anything.”

“You think I wouldn’t do that myself?”

“No. You’re too nice.”

Qrow shakes his head with a fond laugh. “I appreciate the offer, but really. I’ve got this.”

“You’re going to break his legs!”

“I’m not going to break his legs. But actually, what’s with you kids and breaking legs? Nora threatened to break Oz’s legs when he comes back, Yang _did_ break that Mercury shit’s legs, back in our day, we broke auras, not legs.”

“Oh, we break those first,” Ruby says all too cheerfully, and Qrow almost questions Jimmy’s wisdom in making these kids huntsmen and huntresses. Almost.

* * *

Clover the lucky bastard winks at him as they pass each other on the way out, and it’s _really_ just Qrow’s luck that he trips. Or maybe it’s Clover’s, because he manages to catch Qrow in a dip on the way down and somehow make his fall look _intentional._

“Um,” Qrow says intelligently. It’s the eyes’ fault. It’s his stupid, beautiful green eyes and his stupid, beautiful face and the ways his stupid, beautiful eyebrows lift _just so_ in concern.

“You okay?” Clover asks. “You seem a little off balance today.”

Well of fucking _course_ he’s off balance, thanks for fucking asking! Who the fuck _wouldn’t_ be off balance? Unfortunately, whatever’s connecting his brain and his mouth must have just short-circuited because all that comes out is incoherent stammering.

“Um, yeah, fine, yep,” Qrow manages and tries not to think about how Clover’s bare arm is pressed against his back, holding him up and being the only thing currently holding him up. He fails miserably, partially because those arms are just as strong as they look and Qrow Branwen is nothing if not a bisexual disaster.

With no small amount of effort, he manages to tear his gaze away from Clover’s eyes and glance to the floor meaningfully. Clover’s mouth makes an ‘o’ and he pulls Qrow back to his feet.

“Are you alright?” Clover asks, and _gods_ he actually sounds like he means it. “You didn’t take a hit from that geist anywhere, did you?”

“If I did, my aura would have taken the hit.” Qrow looks away. Of course it’s only now that his mouth decides to start working properly and not in panicky stammering. Probably because he’s back on his own two feet and not being held up by an unreasonably hot military operative. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

 _“Yes,”_ Qrow snaps, and on that lovely note he turns on his heel and walks away. Well, speedwalks if anything. It could charitably be called slow running.

 _Maybe_ he breaks into a sprint once he’s rounded the corner. Maybe he runs till he reaches one of the exits, and maybe he leaps right off into the open air. He lets himself fall for one one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand… and then he changes.

It’s nearly effortless, flying back up again. A wingbeat and then another, and he can see Amity Colosseum in all its glory. Turning into a bird might have been meant for spying, but honestly, it helps when he’s stressed. Or confused. Or having a bi crisis about one unreasonably attractive man named Clover.

* * *

The kids are, of course, all too excited about being huntsmen and huntresses now, which is probably why their rooms are all deserted when Qrow sticks his head in at a much more reasonable hour of the morning. Well, not entirely deserted. Ruby left a note in RWBY’s room confirming where they were—not needed, but appreciated—and Oscar’s perched in his bunk playing a game on his scroll.

“Others went to go help with Amity,” Oscar says without looking up. “Got a couple texts from the others saying they were looking for you.”

Qrow cracks an uneasy smile, casually leans on the doorframe. “Did you tell them where to shove it?”

“Nah. They had that covered. You’ve probably got the whole day off if you want it, you looked really tired last night and… whatever his rank is, the guy with the clover pin—”

“Clover.”

“—and who keeps flirting with you, he agreed. Apparently he _did_ sound worried about you though, so maybe just go check in for a moment?” Oscar sets the scroll down and adds, quieter, “Are you doing okay, Mr. Qrow?”

“Just Qrow is fine, I _know_ that isn’t the first time I’ve said that, and… okay enough.” Qrow shrugs. “Thanks for caring. I guess.”

“...I guess?”

“Just not entirely sure why you would. I decked _you_ because I was mad at Oz.”

“You decked Oz,” Oscar corrects quietly.

“And you felt it.”

“I would have punched me too. Don’t worry about it.”

“Not gonna lie, pipsqueak, it’s a little late for that.”

“Okay. Fine.” Oscar slides off the side of the bed and onto his feet, and looks up at Qrow with clear determination in his eyes. “You feel like you have to do something, right? Stand still.”

Qrow’s honestly expecting to get decked back. He’s _not_ expecting Oscar to hug him. Tightly.

“You feel like you have to do something,” Oscar whispers, “then keep doing what you’re doing. I… don’t think anyone else has picked up that you’ve stopped drinking yet. But I’m proud of you. And everyone else will be too.”

“Huh. Not the first time you’ve dealt with someone like me, huh?”

“Not... exactly.” Oscar stands back, hops back on the bed. “Seriously, though, please go talk to Mr. Clover. He was sounding legitimately worried. And then maybe go back to sleep if you’ve got too much of a headache. Let me know if you want me to break his legs.”

“I…” Qrow decides not to question the fact that Oscar too has hopped on the _let’s break Clover’s legs_ bandwagon. “Got it. Thanks.”

Naturally, Qrow’s barely made it out of the dorm area before he runs into Clover, and it’s nothing short of a miracle that it isn’t literal. Qrow jerks back awkwardly, stammers something about going to find him.

“Are you feeling alright?” Clover asks.

“No worse than usual,” Qrow says, and it’s a lie but it’s fine. For good measure, he repeats out loud, “It’s fine.”

“It doesn’t sound fine.”

Damn that observant, attractive bastard. Qrow looks, as subtly as he can, to see if Clover’s got the gravity bolas. He does not have the gravity bolas. He does, however, have his weapon. Kingfisher, he’s pretty sure. A literal fishing rod.

He _probably_ can’t outrun him without turning into a bird, and there’s a few reasons why he doesn’t want to turn into a bird in the middle of Atlas Academy. Too many questions he can’t answer for one.

“Okay, so maybe it’s not fine.” Qrow throws up his hands. “What’s it to you?”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Gods, he _means_ it and that’s the worst part. There’s nothing but genuine concern in those eyes, and Qrow honestly can’t tell if this is still flirting or if he’s just that much of a mess.

“Not really,” he says at last. “Just feeling a bit under the weather. That’s all.”

He can feel where his flask _should_ be far more than he ever felt the flask itself.

“If that’s all… are you alright to go out on a transport for Amity tomorrow morning?” 

“Sure. I guess.”

“Great!” Clover pulls out his scroll and taps at it for a moment, then looks back up with a smile. “I’ll put you on a transport with Huntress Rose, if that’s alright. I understand that there’s nothing I can do to help, but I hope that might at least a little.”

Qrow stares. By the time he’s realized that he’s staring openly again, it’s far too long to hastily excuse, but he tries anyway. Quickly glances away, coughs into his fist.

He—fuck it. There’s no way Clover can be serious. No goddamn way. But just this once, he’ll allow himself to play along. He even smiles, just a little, and it comes _scarily_ easy.

“You already helped,” Qrow says. “Thanks.”

Clover’s smile widens, just a little. “Anytime.”

* * *

Qrow isn’t sure why he’s surprised that Clover can leap right back into the truck and return to playing cards like nothing happened. He just shrugs, picks up his hand, and…

Oh. He _definitely_ doesn’t recognize these cards. He glances to Clover, who has a similar expression of confusion, until recognition dawns on them both.

“We’d better start over,” Clover says. He puts the cards in his hand— _formerly_ Qrow’s cards—on top of the deck, then looks meaningfully at Qrow’s cards, formerly Clover’s. “Unless you want me to have an unfair advantage.”

“Please. You’ve got enough of one already.” Qrow passes them over, and watches Clover shuffle.

“You know.” Clover flips the cards this way and that in an almost hypnotic manner. “You almost beat me that last time. It was pretty close.”

He grins, and winks, and Qrow completely blanks on what he says next due to a whole lot of internal screaming because _why._ Why why why why _why_ does his brain have to do this. It’s probably not helped by Ruby pointing out that he’s being flirted with, either. Or occasionally threatening to break his legs.

Breaking his legs would just make it worse, because Qrow would feel bad and visit a lot and then he’d see him even _more_ than he already does. So, as appreciated as the offer is, he does keep declining.

He’s honestly not sure if Ruby’s serious or not about the offer, but there’s enough of a chance that she’s serious that he’s never going to say yes.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” Qrow forces out.

“I was saying, you shouldn’t automatically assume you’ll lose just because my semblance is good luck and yours is bad,” Clover repeats. “There’s as good of a chance of my semblance giving you something as giving me something, and it sounds like yours is the same.”

“Well, yeah. There’s a reason I fight alone, most of the time. Can’t hurt anyone else that way.”

That last part was said quieter than the rest, mainly so Ruby doesn’t hear. She doesn’t need to hear. And yet, somehow, Clover’s got the same look in his eyes. Pity. Cold, useless pity.

“It hurts you just as much as it does others,” he says softly. “Doesn’t it.”

Qrow nods. Says nothing. What _can_ he say?

“You shouldn’t push the people who care about you away like that,” Clover says after a long pause. He sets the deck down, fully shuffled, without dealing new hands. “Maybe bad luck is a price they’re willing to pay, simply because they care about you _that much_. I know I don’t mind.”

Why wouldn’t he—fuck, he’s flirting again isn’t he. Uh… abort, abort, Qrow would leap out of the truck and fly back to Atlas but he’d like to keep that a secret at least a little longer. There has to be something he can do to change the subject here.

His gaze finds the deck of cards, and… actually, there might be a card game he _can_ win. It doesn’t depend on luck, after all. _And_ talking isn’t allowed, which is a bonus. If he can just win the first round…

“Hey. You ever heard of a game called Mao?” Qrow asks. 

The look on Clover’s face proves he hasn’t. “No. Card game?”

“Card game. I’ll deal.” He picks up the deck and deals one card to Clover and one card to himself, over and over until he both has five cards. He sets the deck down, flips over the top card. “So: Mao. All players start with five cards, and the round ends when you get rid of all the cards in your hand. Kinda like Uno or Rummy in that way. Every turn, you play a card, and when you play a card there’s some laws you have to follow. If you don’t, you draw a card. The two basic laws are the Law of Spades and the Law of Aces. You play a spade card, you have to say the card name. So…”

He gestures to the flipped card. It’s an ace of spades. Lucky, it makes explaining that much easier.

“Say I played that one,” Qrow continues. “I’d have to say _ace of spades_ or I’d draw a card. And the law of aces… doesn’t really matter when you only have two people. But when you play an ace, it changes the direction of play. Like a reverse card in Uno.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Clover says, glancing at his hand. “What’s the catch?”

“Once we start the game, you can’t speak unless a law requires you to, or you get a card. If you _want_ to talk, you can say _point of order_ , and the game’ll pause until the same player that said point of order says _resume_ . And, once you play the last card from your hand, you have to say _Mao_ or you draw a card. Once a round ends, you get to make your own law, but we’ll get to that once we get to the end of the round. Any questions?”

“Just one for now. How many rounds does it take for the game to end?”

“You think it ends?” Qrow laughs. “That’s cute. It ends when you’re the last one to die or quit.”

It occurs to Qrow, slightly late, that he may have accidentally just called Clover cute. It’s with that in mind that, before Clover can open his mouth again, he says, “The game of Mao has now begun.”

“So, no more talking?”

Qrow silently deals him a sixth card. Clover shakes his head with a smile. He plays his first card: two of spades. Qrow says nothing, does nothing but look at Clover meaningfully. Clover looks down at his card again. 

His mouth makes an ‘o’ and he says, somewhat sheepishly, “Two of spades.”

“Point of order,” Qrow says. “I won’t remind you again. Resume.”

He likes _this_ game.

* * *

In Qrow’s defense, Clover winking at him made him spit-take all over his lunch. Which is now soggy, and therefore significantly less appetizing, and so he’d passed it off to Nora and followed him outside. Luck must be on his side— _Clover’s_ luck for once, not his own—because he’s gone to eat outside, in an isolated area, and there’s a winter-bare tree conveniently located right behind the bench he’s sitting at.

In short: Grand Theft Lunch is a go for launch. Repeat, Grand Theft Lunch is a go for launch. He’s just got to find somewhere to transform quietly nearby, preferably outside.

His gaze sweeps the courtyard. He walks past Clover, as inconspicuous as he can be.

“Hey, Qrow!”

Okay. So maybe the whistling was too much. Qrow pretends not to hear him and keeps walking. He—dammit his hair doesn’t cover his ears, he can’t pretend to have earbuds in.

He sighs, and turns, and waves somewhat hesitantly. “Hey, Clover.”

“What’s up? Weren’t you just eating lunch?”

Yes, yes he was, and it’s Clover’s fault that he isn’t anymore. That and his body’s complete lack of self-control, anyway. He opens his mouth to say that, and then it hits him.

In a stroke of genius the likes of which the criminal masterminds of ancient times would be proud of, he mutters something angrily under his breath.

“What was that?” Clover tries.

Qrow cups his hands around his mouth and yells, “A fucking _crow_ stole my lunch, and I’m going to steal it back!”

“A… _what?_ ” Clover takes a moment to process this. “You want help?”

“Nah. I got this.” He grins. Clover doesn’t know just what it is he’s got. “Maybe you should move inside. Wouldn’t want it to steal your lunch too.”

Clover takes the bait. “I think I’ll be alright. Thanks for the warning, and… hey. Come grab me if you _do_ want help, alright?”

“Course. See you.”

Qrow walks off, rounds the corner of the building, and ducks under an awning. He glances around. Is he in a blind spot? Yes, yes he is. Is there anyone around who can see him transform? No, no there is not.

He changes. The small black crow that was formerly Huntsman Qrow Branwen, now just Qrow the completely innocuous crow, hops out into the open and looks back around the corner. Clover is still eating. _His_ lunch consists of the same things Qrow’s did. A juice carton, opened and currently being sipped from. A sandwich, either ham and cheese or turkey and cheese and Qrow can’t tell which from this distance, currently untouched. A dented yet unopened box of raisins. And a cookie that looks vaguely like chocolate chip but with his luck would turn out to be oatmeal raisin.

What is _with_ this man and his _raisins?_ Qrow doesn’t like raisins, so that rules out the cookie (shame) and the box of raisins. Juice carton is out because Clover must be nearly done with it. That leaves the sandwich. Ham and cheese, turkey and cheese, he’ll happily take either.

He takes to the air, flies up into the tree behind Clover as quietly as he can. It’s not quietly enough. Clover turns and raises an eyebrow.

“You’re a crow,” Clover says. “And you stole my friend’s lunch.”

Qrow caws innocently. Then it hits him that Clover called him a friend, and more importantly that he’s reaching for his scroll. He scrolls down, taps a button to call… _him_.

“Busy.” Clover shakes his head to himself and looks back up at the crow. “Well. I’ve got my eye on you, my fine feathered sir. I happen to like eating. I can spare a few raisins, though?”

“Caw!” Qrow says, which roughly translates to _fuck you and your raisins too._

Clover, evidently, does not speak bird. He opens the raisins, tips the box over, and empties a few into his hand. He holds it out. “Raisins?”

Qrow caws suspiciously. He doesn’t budge from the tree branch.

“Right,” Clover says with a laugh. “Guess even my luck can only go so far.” 

He reaches out and empties the raisins out onto the table, next to the tray. And, next to the sandwich.

Qrow eyes Kingfisher. It’s close enough that Clover can grab it quickly, but he’s _pretty_ sure if he can get up into the tree and onto the academy roof, Grand Theft Lunch will be a resounding success. If of course he does, in fact, get the sandwich.

Clover starts to get up, and Qrow flies down. He lands on the edge of the table, pecks at it curiously. Clover sits back down.

“Raisins?” Clover offers.

Qrow hops closer to them. And, more importantly, closer to the sandwich. Closer. And closer. And closer.

Clover tries to call Qrow again. It doesn’t go through this time either, mainly because his scroll is in whatever strange plane of existence his material belongings go when he becomes a crow and completely inaccessible. Clover frowns.

“I hope he’s okay,” Clover tells him. “I wonder what he’s doing?”

Currently, edging closer and closer to the tasty sandwich. Just a _little_ closer…

“He means a lot to me. So when I say I’m sorry, I really _do_ apologize but you _did_ steal his food.”

He’s reaching for Kingfisher. Qrow dives in. He grabs the sandwich and lifts off, beating his wings frantically to compensate for the sudden increase in weight, and he makes it over the roof of the Academy cafeteria just in time to hear an indignant “HEY!”

Grand Theft Lunch: complete. Qrow finds a secluded spot on the roof and transforms back. The sandwich is already in his mouth then, so he takes a bite and then another.

Ham and cheese. _Nice._

* * *

“Hi again,” Qrow greets, and he has to keep himself from smiling when Clover looks up with a forlorn look. Worth it. “Didn’t find the bird. You see it anywhere?”

“It stole my sandwich,” Clover says miserably.

“Oh,” Qrow says. “Tragic. Can’t you just get another one?”

“Yeah, probably. I just…” Clover shakes his head and scoops up the raisins. “I thought it wanted my _raisins._ ”

“No sane person ever wants raisins. Or bird.”

“Raisins are _great_ ,” Clover says defensively. “Everyone hates them. They’re not that bad!”

“Really.”

“Really! Raisins are great, no matter what anyone else says. And they aren’t the only ones.”

Qrow takes a moment to process this, and Clover adds, “I’m saying you’re great. Despite what you might think.”

“Oh,” Qrow says. “Cool. Uh. Thanks. I’m gonna… go.”

As soon as Qrow’s out of sight, he changes, cameras be damned. It’s when he’s soaring over Clover’s head that he hears him muttering angrily, “Raisins. _Why_ did I think it was a good idea to compare him to _raisins._ ”

Qrow would think it’s funny if he wasn’t involved.

* * *

Fuck it. Qrow’s already screamed into a pillow too much today. He’s going to find Clover, and he’s going to ask him what the fuck is he doing. Is he serious? Is he just flirting for shits and giggles? Is this, somehow, Ironwood’s orders? On the one hand, no, on the other hand Ironwood is the kind of person to call a hug an _extended chest bump_ so who the fuck knows.

So: he’s going to find Clover. And he does, eventually, after getting false directions from a couple of very amused Ace Ops and eventually running into Penny, who declares she’ll take him straight there. Then she does, by throwing him over a shoulder like a very tired sack of potatoes and shooting off down the halls.

“Found him!” Penny says cheerfully, and proceeds to dump Qrow in a mildly disoriented heap. Which is _exactly_ the impression he wanted to make.

“Penny, hello, what did you—is he okay?” 

Oh _fuck_ that’s Clover.

“Probably!”

“M’fine,” Qrow manages, getting to his feet. He looks to Penny first, because he can’t look at Clover yet or he _will_ lose his nerve. “Thanks, Penny.”

“You are very welcome, Huntsman Uncle Qrow!”

Penny salutes and zooms off before he can tell her to drop the _huntsman_ . Which is probably for the best, he’s not convinced she wouldn’t pick him up again and drop him. Or pick up and drop _Clover._

Speaking of Clover… fuuuuuuuuuck.

“Hi,” Qrow says wearily.

“Hey,” Clover says. _“Are_ you okay?”

“Eh, more or less.” He waves a hand dismissively. “Not why I’m here. I need you to shut up, and listen to me, for two minutes. Sound good?”

Clover shuts his mouth. He flashes him a smile and a thumbs up.

“Listen. I’m—fuck, I probably already fucked this up, I’ll get to the important part. I have some questions. Have you been flirting with me?”

“Well, yes, I thought—”

“I’m _not done._ What do you want from this? What do you want from _me?_ What is this to you? I—”

And the more or less rational, thinking part of Qrow’s brain short-circuits, because Clover’s hand is on his shoulder and he looks more concerned than ever. His eyes are wide, and he’s not smiling anymore.

“Qrow,” Clover says softly, “can I say something?”

“I—” His breath catches in his throat. He’s a _grown man_ dammit, he shouldn’t be acting like some schoolgirl with a crush. He gulps, attempts to recover at least some of his sarcasm. “Well. You _can_. There’s no law stopping you. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Clover’s mouth quirks up again, in a sort of half-smile. “I’ll go one at a time. Yes, I have been flirting with you, I thought that was kind of obvious at this point. What I want from this, well I’d _really_ like you to learn how to take a compliment, we can go from there. What I want from you… about the same thing. And what this is to me…”

Clover shrugs. “Impossible as it may be to believe, you _are_ rather good-looking. I’m surprised you don’t get attention more often, unless you genuinely aren’t interested, in which case please let me know.”

“It’s the semblance,” Qrow says. 

“Well… lucky me, that’s not a problem.”

He winks, because of course he does. And Qrow _should_ tell him no. He should tell him not to bother, tell him he’s not interested even if it’s a blatant lie. His semblance’ll fuck things up. It always does.

But… it hasn’t fucked everything up, has it? Raven made her own choice. So, much as Qrow doesn’t like to admit it, did Summer. He and Tai aren’t speaking anymore but that’s something else entirely.

He’s got the kids, and that’s the strangest thing of all. Ruby never gave up on him, and Yang gave up on herself before that. He’d already been starting to like the other members of RNJR before shit went upside down and sideways, and then Weiss and Yang and Oscar showed up too. Blake was the last addition, but clearly not an unwelcome one, and…

He set out to protect his nieces, specifically Ruby because Salem had no reason to target Yang yet. Except he’s pretty sure they’ve _all_ called him Uncle Qrow at some time or another. And maybe they’ve grown on him. A lot.

His luck hasn’t gotten any of them killed. So maybe, just maybe, he can take a chance with someone new.

Clover takes a step back, withdraws his hand. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. I’d rather be friends than not talk at all, but I understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore. I’ll keep us on separate missions.”

Qrow finds his voice again. 

“Whatever you do,” he takes a step forward, “don’t do that.” 

At this point he _really_ doesn’t trust his words to work right. Or at all. 

Solution: fuck words, just kiss the man.

So that’s exactly what he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have spent most of this chapter projecting heavily on Qrow, but not gonna lie, I'm with Clover on the raisins.


	2. Two Gays, Locked in a Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six times Qrow and Clover get set up, and one time they wise up before it gets to that point.
> 
> Day 2: Date/Domestic

“Are we  _ sure _ this is the right address?” Qrow asks.

“Depends,” Clover replies, checking his scroll. “Yes, it’s the address Yang texted us, but I’m pretty sure we weren’t supposed to be going to a movie theater.”

Slowly, they turn to look at each other. Qrow’s cape flaps in the wind. Clover’s pin clinks against his uniform. For a time, both are completely silent. In the end, Qrow breaks first, clapping a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter. 

“Unless we were,” Qrow finishes for both of them. “Goddamn, that didn’t take her long.”

Clover raises an eyebrow. “She’s done this before?”

“She and Ruby both. Little matchmakers, the both of them, but it’s  _ only _ with me. They never pull this with their dad.”

Clover shrugs, and moves to head inside. So does Qrow.

“Maybe they thought you needed a little push?”

“Kind of funny, if you think about it. At least they had better taste this time.”

The eyebrow raises further. “There’s definitely a story there.”

“If the movie’s boring enough, you’ll get it.” Qrow fumbles around for his wallet. Eventually, he pulls it out, only to find two movie tickets for what looks like some kind of action movie, and a note hastily scribbled in red pen. He reads aloud, “ _ Get some, Uncle Qrow. _ Huh. Well, I guess you have Yang  _ and _ Ruby’s stamp of approval.”

“That’s probably a good thing,” Clover agrees.

Qrow passes him a ticket. “Definitely a good thing. Half of my kids were gonna break your legs from the flirting alone.” 

“...I’m not sure what it says about our relationship that you’re assuming they could.”

“You might have luck on your side, Cloves, but they’re the stubbornest people I know. And I know me. They definitely could if they wanted to.”

Clover looks down at his legs. He gulps. “I will keep that in mind.”

They pass in the tickets, grab some popcorn and drinks—or more accurately, Qrow insists on getting popcorn and drinks and then flat out refuses to carry them—and then head into the theater. It’s only when they’ve taken their seats in the back, popcorn safely nestled between them and drinks in holders, that Qrow allows himself to relax.

“So… Cloves, huh?”

Qrow grins. “Yeah. Your name’s a mouthful. Problem?”

“Not at all.” Clover puts one arm protectively around the bucket of popcorn, and the other around Qrow. “Let’s see what Ruby’s taste in movies is.”

As it turns out, Ruby’s taste in movies isn’t half bad. Once they get back, though, Qrow isn’t about to tell her that. It’s far too much fun to pretend that their date had been completely platonic.

It  _ was _ a good movie, and for more than just what was on the screen.

* * *

“Did you just call me Uncle Qrow?”

The question’s directed to the entire room, but mostly to Jaune. The huntsman in question shrugs.

“Well, yeah,” Jaune says. “If you don’t mind.”

“You have become a second parent to us all,” Ren supplies. “A first parent, in some cases.”

Nora nods vigorously. “Certainly way better than that fucker—”

“Language, Nora, we have children present.”

“I’m fifteen!” Oscar protests, only to be completely ignored by Nora and Ren both. Jaune gives his shoulder a squeeze.

“That  _ fucker, _ ” Nora emphasizes, simultaneously emphasizing just how little of a shit she gives, “who dares to call himself Weiss’s dad.”

“Not an inaccurate description of Jacques Schnee,” Qrow says wryly. 

“Right! Speaking of that fucker,” Nora exchanges looks with her teammates, “Uncle Qrow, I need you to trust me, and come with me. I have an idea.”

“Dubiously legal, I’m guessing,” Qrow says. “This seems like the kind of thing a responsible parent wouldn’t want you doing. And definitely wouldn’t help you with.”

All of JNPR nods wordlessly.

Qrow laughs. “Good thing I’m an uncle! What can I do to help?”

He actually believes Nora’s taking him to go fuck up Jacques “Shithole” Schnee, despite the fact that he’s quickly left alone with Nora and Oscar, and then it’s just him and Oscar waiting in a supply closet for a while. Oscar’s scroll lights up with a message.

“Oh, good, they’re almost here,” Oscar says. He sticks his scroll into his pocket, passes his bag to Qrow, and continues, “Hold this for me?”

“Sure,” Qrow says. “Why?”

“Wait here, you’ll know when to open it.”

“...right.”

Qrow watches Oscar head out, flip the lights, and shut the door behind him. In what feels like moments, it’s opened again, someone’s shoved in, and it’s shut again. And locked. And, judging by the several muffled thumps, barricaded.

“What just—I thought we were—okay, yep, this is what I wanted to do tonight. Where’s the lights, the lights have to be here somewhere.”

Qrow, in the darkness, frowns. “Cloves?”

“Qrow? Hang on, which side is the lightswitch on…”

“Left,” he says. “I think. My left, not yours.”

“Found it.”

There’s a click, and the lights are back on, and yep, it’s Clover. Clover, who’s already turned around and is currently trying the doorknob. The door refuses to open. Surprise, surprise.

“That was… not what I was expecting,” Clover says with a sigh. “Admittedly, I probably should’ve asked what it was Jaune and Ren wanted my help with  _ before _ agreeing. That one’s on me. What’s that you got there?”

“Oscar told me to hold it for him before leaving,” Qrow offers. “And… he  _ did _ say I’d know when to open it. Guess they planned this. Little shits.”

Clover raises an eyebrow. “Better open it, then.”

Qrow does. Inside is a scroll—his  _ own? _ When did they get that?—a note, and a water bottle. He passes the water bottle to Clover on instinct, then unfolds the note.

“Damn. Literally two days since Yang and Ruby tried to get us together. I guess they escalated things.”

This particular note is written in an emerald green Qrow had previously come to associate with Oz, but in a much sloppier and nothing close to cursive handwriting. Oscar.

_ I’m really sorry about this, but Nora got the idea that shoving you two in a closet and not letting you out until you confessed your feelings to each other would be a good idea. Jaune agreed. Apparently that was how Ren and Nora got together-together. Except they might not be yet? I dunno. They’re confusing. _

_ Anyway, scroll’s so you can tell us when you’ve confessed, water’s in case you get thirsty. I’m really, really sorry. If it goes bad, let us know, we’ll break his legs. _

“I think they forgot that giving us a scroll means we can call anyone for help,” Clover points out. “Course, I think if we call any of your kids, they’ll leave us in here or take the scroll.”

“Jimmy’s out, I don’t want to have to explain myself to him.”

Clover winces. “Much as I hate to refer to the General like that, agreed. Any other numbers on there?”

“Winter Schnee, absolutely the fuck not, I’m not letting her anywhere  _ near _ my love life. Maria, she’d just laugh and hang up.”

“Do you have Penny’s number?”

“She has a scroll?”

“Technically, she is the scroll. Technically. Pietro’s number could work, but he’s down in Mantle, he’d have to connect you  _ to _ Penny and even then there’s no guarantee she’d actually let us out.”

“She’d be more likely to than my kids.” Qrow scrolls briefly. “And I do, in fact, have one Dr. Pietro Polendina in here. Surprisingly. Think that’s your luck coming into play, Cloves.”

“Well, maybe not. It’ll take a while for him to get through to Penny, and for Penny to get here.”

Qrow raises an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Clover says  _ slightly _ cheekily, “that while I’m all for continuing to pretend we’re in the flirting stage, we’ve got plenty of time to do whatever we want while we’re waiting.”

Penny would eventually blast right through the door, startling them apart, and look between them with clear curiosity on her face.

“What were you doing in there?” Penny asks.

“Um,” Clover says.

Qrow picks up his slack. “Nothing at all. Wouldn’t dream of doing y—anything to you. Lucky Charm.”

Clover winks, and makes finger guns. “Of course not. Just my luck, huh?”

“Right!” Penny agrees cheerfully. “I’ll leave you to it, then!”

As it turns out, making calls is not the only thing Penny can do without a scroll. Furthermore, while the vast majority of the internet is down, a significant portion is still up in the general Atlas-Mantle area, and can be easily searched for information. Information such as, in this case, what is the best way to bring two good friends even closer together. The internet is, unfortunately, inconclusive.

So, she asks Winter.

* * *

_ “For the record,” _ Winter says over comms,  _ “this was entirely Penny’s idea, and Operative Ebi, you have extraordinarily bad taste in men.” _

“What is that supposed to mean?” Clover demands. “I happen to have  _ great _ taste in men, and I fail to see how this is remotely relevant to the mission.”

“Probably means me,” Qrow says with a careless shrug. “Hey, Ice Queen.”

_ “Do  _ not _ call me that, Branwen.” _

“You still mad that I got you in trouble with Jimmy?”

_ “And do  _ not _ call the General that.” _

“I’m not hearing a no.”

_ “That doesn’t automatically make it a yes!” _

Qrow’s easy smirk is progressively growing wider and wider, and wherever Winter currently is, Clover can picture her getting angrier and angrier. Honestly, he would have paid good money to see the fight they’d had in front of Beacon.

Maybe Ruby or Yang got a video. Honestly, he wouldn’t put it past either of them. That still begs the question: what exactly  _ is _ Penny’s idea?

“As amusing as this is to hear,” Clover cuts in, “where is this coming from? What do you mean, this was entirely Penny’s idea?”

_ “I mean,” _ Winter says icily,  _ “that while I may have assisted with the logistics in exchange for Penny’s assistance on an issue of my own, this was entirely Penny’s idea. Has she not done it yet?” _

Qrow looks at Clover. Clover looks at Qrow, who proceeds to pantomime complete confusion but otherwise stays quiet.

“Done what?”

Winter goes completely silent. There’s absolutely nothing, completely dead air. One second, two, three. Seconds turn to minutes. Qrow reaches around Harbinger for his bag.

“Re—dammit, I forgot the cards. Eh. With my luck, we wouldn’t have had enough time to play a round anyway.”

“In that case, it might be my luck coming into play,” Clover offers.

Qrow grins. “Yeah. Yeah, it might.”

_ “Penny,  _ please _ hurry up, if I have to hear them flirting for any longer I  _ will _ be sick.” _

“Man, Ice Queen, if you think this is flirting, how sad is your love life?”

_ “My love life happens to be great, no thank you for asking. Especially without any men in it.” _

“Can’t relate,” Clover says immediately. 

_ “And this is exactly why I have better taste in men than you. Penny,  _ what _ is taking so long?” _

As if on cue, the truck jolts and rolls to a stop.

_ “Oh no!” _ Penny cuts in, sounding just a little too cheerful.  _ “It looks like you may have hit an unexpected snag! The truck may not have been refueled properly before setting off! Not to worry, I will be right there to provide you with extra fuel, but you  _ may _ want to stay inside the truck. There is, after all, a severe weather warning in the area!” _

_ “Penny, this was not part of the plan. Were you even listening to me?” _

_ “Of course! I just took your advice and combined it with the internet’s!” _

_ “The internet is not a reliable source, Penny. Is my part done?” _

_ “Yep!” _

_ “Good. Over and out.” _

“So I know I’m not the only one who’s just a little confused here,” Qrow says. “What’s going on, Penny?”

Clover nudges him, then holds out his fist and pantomimes  _ rock, paper, scissors. _ Qrow rolls his eyes but obliges. His rock beats Clover’s scissors. Clover’s scissors beats his paper. And then, Penny clears her throat awkwardly. Or mimics the sound of doing so, in any case.

_ “You like each other a lot!” _ Penny says.  _ “You should take the opportunity to act on it!” _

Clover mouths,  _ should we tell her? _

Qrow shrugs. Aloud, he says, “Yes, I happen to like Clover a lot. He’s a very nice person, and I’m lucky to have him as a friend.”

Clearly amused, Clover raises an eyebrow.

Qrow adds, “Pun not intended.”

“But greatly appreciated,” Clover says lightly. “Qrow is a very good friend, and I’m lucky to have him too.”

_ “I can’t possibly be the only one who sees this.” _

It’s taking all the willpower Qrow has not to mutter something along the lines of  _ no, Penny, you definitely aren’t. _ Judging by the way Clover’s trying very, very hard not to smile, he’s not the only one.

“Sees what?” Qrow says innocently. 

Clover snorts. “A very good question, Qrow, my  _ friend. _ ”

_ “I thought you were… alright. You are just friends, then? I’ll update my profiles on the two of you.” _

“You have profiles on us?”

_ Dodging the question, _ Clover mouths, and Qrow rolls his eyes.

_ “Of course I do! I have profiles on every individual I interact with on a regular basis. More detailed ones on certain individuals who are very pretty.” _

“Certain individuals who are very pretty, huh?” Qrow asks. “Don’t suppose you’ll be telling us anything about that.”

_ “You suppose correctly. I will, however, be talking with some of those certain individuals later as they are much better at this than I am.” _

It’s probably a bad sign for Qrow’s continued peace of mind when he sees Penny chatting excitedly with Ruby and Weiss later, holding hands with both of them. On the other hand, hey. Penny can be as gay as she wants, and she’s a nice girl, she has his stamp of approval.

Qrow just hopes that she, and everyone else, will pick up on the fact that he and Clover are actually a Thing, capital T, sooner rather than later. Because as amusing as it is to fuck with everyone, he doesn’t want to be shoved into another closet.

* * *

“If this is another excuse to try and set me up with Qrow, just let me know now and spare us both the trouble,” Clover says, only half-joking. Or maybe he’s three-quarters joking, because he’s definitely more joking than not.

That’s why Marrow’s sudden silence, in stark contrast to his laughing and joking around the entire trip, comes as a shock.

“Um,” Marrow says. “No. Whatever would make you think that.”

Clover glances up from his scroll. “Your tail’s wagging.”

“No, it isn’t. Nope. Definitely not.”

His tail’s wagging even more furiously now. Clover raises an eyebrow, and only then does Marrow reach a hand back and hold it still. He gives Marrow a knowing smile, then looks back to his scroll and opens up his texts with Qrow.

_ Me: soooo I just found out from Marrow that we’re about to be set up again _

_ Me: curious to what he’ll try this time _

_ Scareqrow: ask your son cloves _

_ Scareqrow: ask him _

_ Me: Marrow’s not… _

_ Me: you know what, ok _

_ Scareqrow: listen i have eight kids _

_ Scareqrow: possibly nine penny is definitely vying for a spot _

_ Scareqrow: i know how to recognize when youve been adopted _

_ Scareqrow: ASK YOUR SON CLOVES _

_ Me: lol ok I will!! love you <3 _

_ Scareqrow: you too <3 _

“So, out of curiosity, how  _ is _ this one going to work?” Clover asks. “Yang and Ruby…  _ encouraged _ us to go to a movie theater and see that new movie, JNPR shoved us in a closet, Penny enlisted  _ Winter _ of all people—”

“She enlisted  _ who? _ ” 

Marrow’s tail has been forgotten, it’s wagging away again. Good to see him happy.

...okay, Qrow  _ may _ have a small point about Marrow maybe triggering fatherly instincts he didn’t realize he had. A very, very small one. Small as a Goliath.

“Winter Schnee. Which was  _ very _ amusing considering that Winter does  _ not like Qrow _ , and Qrow really likes to piss her off. He baited  _ her _ into a fight in front of Beacon Academy, before the Fall. Sadly neither of his nieces had a video. Ruby did witness it and assured me it was ‘super awesome’ and ‘Uncle Qrow totally kicked Weissy’s sister’s butt.’”

Weiss had immediately protested that it was a draw at best, but not the nickname Weissy.

“I  _ might _ have that video.” Marrow cracks a grin. 

Clover’s eyes go wide. “Wait. Are you serious? How?”

“Downloaded it off the internet before the CCT went down, people  _ really _ do like to see two attractive individuals beating the shit out of each other.” 

Marrow turns his scroll around, and the camera (shaky, poor image quality, clearly taken on someone’s scroll) shows someone who’s  _ clearly _ Qrow. Same messy, almost feathery dark hair. Same red cape and red eyes. And, most importantly, he’s holding up a headless AK-200 like it’s nothing.

Clover makes a thoroughly undignified noise as Qrow says, or perhaps more accurately slurs, “I’m talking to  _ you, _ Ice Queen.”

Because he’s drunk here. That’s not a surprise, Qrow  _ has _ been getting over an addiction and it stands to reason he would have been drunk fairly often prior to quitting. What  _ is _ a surprise is the intensity in his eyes.

He intends to win this fight, drunk or not. Clover starts to lean forward in his seat, only for Marrow to hit the pause button and withdraw his scroll.

“Uh-uh,” Marrow shakes his finger. “I’ll send it to you if, and  _ only _ if, you tell Qrow how you clearly feel about him. Please. It’s starting to get ridiculous.”

“Already did,” Clover says, and only half to see the look on Marrow’s face. Other half’s to get his hands on that video.

“You.  _ No. No way. _ ”

“Almost a week ago now. Would you believe that  _ he _ confessed to me?”

“No,” Marrow says immediately.

“Well, you’d be right. Technically. Technically, he just kissed me. We’ve been having fun messing with everyone. Can you keep a secret?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can. And I’ll send you the video, I just…  _ wow. _ ” Marrow whistles appreciatively. “Want to watch your boyfriend be badass real quick? Seeing as there’s no longer any pressing need to get you both to the skating rink on time.”

“The—” Clover blinks. “Was it Harriet’s idea?”

“I was running out of options that hadn’t already been tried, and she insisted we use her idea if she was helping. Anyway, there’s a bench over here.”

They sit down. Marrow re-navigates to the video. He hits play, and Clover watches in a mix of horror at how irreverent Qrow is—he’d thought he was irreverent  _ now _ , dear  _ gods _ —and awe at how absolutely nothing can stop him from sassing Winter Schnee.

_ “If you won’t hold your tongue,” _ past Winter draws Hippeastrum with a scowl,  _ “then I will gladly remove it for you!” _

Qrow looks down with a smile. His bangs hang in his eyes, even moreso than usual.  _ “Alright then.” _ He slicks back his bangs. Clover’s pretty sure his soul leaves his body.  _ “Come take it.” _

Whoever’s holding the camera audibly gasps. Again,  _ not the only one, aaaaaah. _ Qrow dodges effortlessly, blocks what he can’t dodge, and strikes back with the finesse of a master swordsman. 

Somewhere in the background, Ruby yells,  _ “What’s going on?” _

_ “Some crazy guy just started attacking my sister!” _ And that… sounds like Weiss. A much more uptight version of Weiss, but Weiss nonetheless.

_ “Who would do such a th… AT IS MY UNCLE! KICK HER BUTT, UNCLE QROW!” _

_ “Uh… teach him respect, Winter!” _

Clover can’t help a smile at that last line, because clearly  _ that _ hadn’t happened and he wouldn’t want it to. Not that he’s not already smiling. Honestly, he didn’t think it was possible to get any gayer for this man, and yet. And yet, here he is.

They keep fighting. Harbinger clashing against Hippeastrum, sword against sword. At some point, Qrow breaks the courtyard. They run out into the distance, leaping onto opposite sides of Beacon’s arched walls, far enough away that it’s hard to see them on the camera. They come back quickly, though. Winter’s pulled out her secondary sword from the first, and Clover can practically  _ feel _ the shockwaves when she hits Harbinger with both of them, sending Qrow flying back into the courtyard. 

They keep fighting, and the immense respect and love Clover already had for Qrow increases even further. Then—right when it looks like he’s about to change Harbinger into its scythe form—he puts it away.

Clover frowns. “What is he—?”

“You didn’t hear about this? Guess not. Wait for it.”

Qrow looks Winter in the eye, raises a hand, and beckons with a single finger. The camera moves to Winter, poised on a glyph, ready to charge. Her face contorts with rage, and she does. Qrow makes no move to dodge.

Then, right when Clover thinks he’s dead, he’s so dead, how can he possibly not be—

_ “SCHNEE!” _

That’s  _ unmistakably _ General Ironwood. That’s where the video cuts off, but Clover thinks he can guess what happened next. After all, Winter  _ did _ , technically, attack first. Even if it was with provocation.

“Wow,” Clover says. “I think I’m gay.”

Marrow shoots him a look. “You just said you’d been dating for almost a week. And thoroughly not  _ my _ type, but same.”

“Really? What  _ is _ your type?”

Marrow shrugs as he taps out a message on his scroll. 

“Jaune’s cute,” he says absently.

Before he can respond, Clover’s buzzes with a new message. It’s not hard to tell who it’s from.

_ Best Ace Op: here you go :D  _ [ _ badass.smv _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKRsnQDHbig) __

“You should tell him,” Clover offers. “Take some of your own advice.”

Marrow smiles hesitantly. “Maybe,” he says in that way which makes it pretty clear he’s not going to. “We should get going. Better get you to the skating rink soon.”

“Alright. I can text while I walk.”

_ Me: hey Qrow _

_ Me: Qrowwww _

_ Me: love of my life, light of my soul, Qrow Branwen wherefore art thou _

_ Scareqrow: im pretending were not dating yet remember _

_ Me: mmm true _

_ Me: Marrow knows by the way, he can keep the secret _

_ Scareqrow: noted _

_ Me: he bribed me with this  _ [ _ badass.smv _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKRsnQDHbig) __

_ Scareqrow: is _

_ Scareqrow: is this what i think it is _

_ Me: possibly _

_ Scareqrow: it IS holy shit :D _

_ Scareqrow: ily cloves <3 <3 _

_ Me: <3 <3 _

Clover glances up to see Marrow staring at him with a fond smile on his face. “You really do love him, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Clover says. “Yeah, I really do.”

* * *

Qrow should have known something was up when, instead of one of the usual military pilots, it was  _ Maria _ piloting the plane. But nothing  _ seemed _ to be amiss, and Clover wasn’t even on the same mission, so he didn’t question it, just went and dealt with the Grimm as usual.

It’s on the way back that Qrow realizes that they were, in fact, actually going to  _ pick Clover up _ and swap out some of the other, less exhausted Ace Ops for guard duty. Which means he and Clover are now alone in an airship with Maria.

“Miss Calavera,” Clover says eventually, leaning against the side of the ship, “we both know you aren’t a licensed pilot and certainly not one of ours. What are you doing here?”

“Well, I’m glad you asked!” She’s turned away from him, second eyes on the sky, but somehow it’s not exactly hard to guess that she’s wearing a shit-eating grin. “I’m  _ hijacking this ship!” _

“Maria, no,” Qrow says wearily.

“Maria  _ YES!” _

“Maria, actually. What are you doing here, and what’s stopping one of us from taking the controls back and going straight back to Atlas?”

“I  _ know _ neither of you can fly.”

Clover audibly winces. 

Qrow, meanwhile, goes, “Are you really,  _ really _ sure about that, Maria?”

“A  _ plane. _ ”

Qrow opens his mouth, and shuts it. “Okay. You got me there.”

He pretends not to see the confused look he gets from Clover about Maria having to specify a plane, instead crosses his arms and glares in Maria’s direction.

“You two,” Maria says, in a manner that’s surprisingly predictable, “should kiss.”

“Eh.” Qrow shrugs. “Maybe later.”

“Yeah, not really feeling it right now,” Clover says, mirroring Qrow’s shrug.

“I can fly this plane in circles for  _ hours _ before I run out of fuel, and I am  _ perfectly capable of crashing it out in the tundra! _ You kiss, or you don’t get back to Atlas anytime soon.”

“Hey, Cloves,” Qrow says casually. “You brought the card deck this time, right?”

“Lucky you, I did.” Clover winks. A part of him still fries a little, but it’s less in a terrified way and more in a  _ wow I love him _ way now that they’ve figured that shit out. “Don’t suppose you’ll tell me what the Law of Luck does?”

“Absolutely not. Re—”

“Hang on,” Maria cuts in. “Are you boys playing Mao? Can I play?”

“Card games are for people who don’t kidnap us mid-mission. Resume.”

In the end, Maria drops them back off in Atlas right when she was supposed to, about an hour later. By then, the Law of Luck has been joined by the Law of Sabyr and the Law of Goliath, and while Clover’s more or less figured out the Law of Luck at this point, Qrow’s about as close to figuring out the Law of Sabyr as Clover is to figuring out the Law of Goliath.

Which is to say, not at all. That’s what makes it fun.

* * *

Clover is, overall, having a pretty good day. He’s been on a mission with Qrow and Team RWBY, and, shockingly, there hasn’t been a single comment about their relationship or lack thereof. There’s been no small amount of giggling and staring, which he and Qrow probably haven’t  _ helped _ by continuing to flirt, but beyond that there’s nothing.

At last, they reach the safety of Atlas Academy, and they go their separate ways. They’d gotten back pretty late, so Clover just waves to Qrow and the girls and headed back to the Ace Op rooms. Of course, he never actually makes it there. He’s a mere three or four feet from the doorknob, and the safety of his room, when it happens.

_ What _ happens? Good question. One moment Clover’s humming tiredly to himself, and the next something whacks him in the back of the head, he pitches forward, and he’s out before he hits the ground.

Then he wakes up tied to a chair in a dark room. This surprisingly isn’t the strangest place or situation he’s woken up in, but it’s definitely up there somewhere. He blinks a couple times, tries to get his eyes to adjust to the low levels of light.

They’re in… a closet. Again.

“Do you realize how much effort I put in to stay out of the closet?” Clover calls, and behind him someone audibly snorts.  _ Very _ close behind him. “Qrow?”

Small gasp. Definitely Qrow. “Hi, Cloves. How did you know?”

“Lucky guess? That, and the fact that we’ve been thrown together in all sorts of strange situations lately. The movie was good. And the skating rink.”

“I liked the skating rink,” Qrow agrees. He raises his voice. “We’re both awake now, you little shits, get on with the program.”

A flashlight comes on, illuminating someone’s face from underneath. Ruby, surprise surprise. Three more come on, one by one. Weiss. Blake. Yang.

“And here I was thinking we were actually in danger,” Clover says wryly. 

“Oh, you are,” Ruby says. There’s a threat in her words that makes Clover shut up. “You’ve probably noticed that you can’t move. Well, you’re tied to chairs, that are tied back to back to each other, and you’re not leaving until you admit your feelings for each other.”

Qrow audibly sighs. “That seems to be a running theme these days.”

“This is for your own good, Uncle Qrow,” Weiss says a little too cheerfully. “And maybe a bit because this is funny.”

“A bit?” Blake asks, raising an eyebrow.

“A lot is because we needed you to sneak after Clover and get  _ him _ here,” Weiss admits. “Although I don’t think most of us planned on knocking him out. Sorry about that.”

“I’m not.”

“Consider it a warning for what we’ll do if you break his heart,” Yang offers ominously.

“I’d never break his heart,” Clover says.

“If you did, we’d break your legs.”

“...so I’ve heard. But really. I’d never break his heart because I’d never be in a position to break his heart in the first place. We’re friends. That’s all. Right, Qrow?”

He can feel Qrow shaking with silent laughter through the chair. “Right.”

The girls groan in unison. Their flashlights click off at once, too, leaving everyone in darkness again and some frantic whispering that progressively grows louder and louder. 

“Yang, you thought this would work.”

“Hey, I didn’t come up with it, that was  _ all _ Blake!” 

“It was at least a fifty-fifty effort.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was a good plan, and we  _ all _ came up with it. I just don’t know where we went wrong.”

“Maybe it was when Blake whacked Clover upside the head with Yang’s arm.”

“He was almost to his room, I  _ panicked _ okay? My own weapon wasn’t heavy enough and could have seriously injured him.”

“...Blake, my arm has a shotgun in it.”

_ “I panicked!” _

“Man,” Qrow observes, “I don’t even think my team was that crazy back in the day. Or… well, they might have been, there was that time Tai nearly burned down Beacon.”

“Dad did  _ what?” _ Yang asks. “Actually, no, you can tell me  _ after _ you two  _ idiots _ work out your feelings. Which you’re clearly not going to do right now. Team RWBY, let’s leave them to their bullshit, we’ll come grab them in the morning.”

“Language.”

“Nineteen, Uncle Qrow. See you tomorrow.”

The door opens just long enough for them all to file out, and then it shuts again.

“So,” Clover says after a few moments, “as much as I’d love to stay here, this chair is getting a bit uncomfortable.”

“Yeah.” Qrow laughs. “Sorry about them. I should have known better than to think Ruby Rose and Yang Xiao Long would give up after one failed try.”

“Honestly, I should’ve too.” Silence for a few moments. “So, how are we getting out of this?”

“Give me a couple seconds.”

Suddenly, the comforting weight of Qrow against his back is gone. And, within a few seconds, the lights are on and Qrow’s standing next to them, completely free of his bonds.

“How did you—?”

“I have to keep some secrets, don’t I?” Qrow winks. “Let’s get you out of those. And then… well, they’ll be watching  _ my _ room. How about yours?”

* * *

“You want us to spread the word that all the kids have the night off,” Qrow repeats. 

Ironwood nods. “Yes. Most of the Ace Ops are as well. Marrow volunteered for guard duty with Penny at Robyn Hill’s victory party, but everyone else is off. Especially the two of you.”

Qrow and Clover exchange looks.

“Here we go again,” Qrow mutters.

“Sir, with all due respect, is there any particular reason you’re so insistent on Qrow and myself having time off?” Clover asks innocently.

“Huntresses Rose, Schnee, Belladonna, and Xiao Long insisted on the two of you in particular,” Ironwood says, and there it is. “They had some… assumptions about the nature of your relationship that I did not want to make myself.”

“Jimmy, we’ve been dating for two weeks,” Qrow says flatly. “This is already getting painful. Can we go?”

Ironwood opens his mouth, and shuts it again. Open and shut. Like a fish. Meanwhile, Clover is looking a little green.

“Of course,” Ironwood says. “I, uh. Congratulations. I’ll have someone else let the others know of tonight being off.”

Ironwood does have a point. Everything  _ could _ change tomorrow, and is going to in one way or another. Either Robyn Hill will become councilwoman, or Jacques Schnee will take the council seat. It should be Robyn. But anything could happen on election night.

Whatever happens, Qrow doesn’t give a damn, because he’s teaching his boyfriend how to play Beat Saber. It turns out great. Even if Clover adamantly refuses to wear the straps. Even if he listens a little too closely to the lyrics of a particular song Qrow’s good at, and then passes the controllers over to him and refuses to stop hugging him for the next hour.

The next day could be chaos. But they’re together, and they’ll face it together. And maybe it’s time to stop fucking with everyone, because Qrow does  _ not _ want to get stuck in  _ another _ closet anytime soon. Two closets in two weeks is two too many.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon name for Winter's sword(s) is Hippeastrum. Flower similar to amaryllis that isn't, can be colored white but generally isn't, symbolizes pride... among other things. I'm tired, it's midnight, and I really hope Day 3 is easy to write for me because otherwise I'm not keeping up lol. It'll be fun. I'm writing a lot, woo! :D
> 
> Night y'all, hope you like this, see y'all... technically later today at this point but shhhh. <3


	3. Two Uncles, Ten Kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six times Clover helps with Qrow’s eight (nine?) kids, and one time Qrow helps with Clover’s one.
> 
> Day 3: Family/Weapons

Training together is a remarkable way to build teamwork. It’s also, not entirely coincidentally, a good way to strengthen the bonds between teammates outside the battlefield. There’s a reason the vast majority of Clover’s initial flirting occurred during missions, although Qrow arguably had always reacted more to flirting outside of missions.

Now that Penny is more or less under house arrest, if it can be called house arrest when the house she’s confined to is Atlas Academy, she has a little too much time for training. Fortunately, she doesn’t have to do it alone.

Unfortunately, everyone seems to have a whole lot of complicated emotions surrounding the events of election night. Particularly the one framed for a massacre, and currently trying not to break down in the middle of the training room.

Penny raises a shaky hand again. Her swords fly at a training dummy—and clatter to the ground uselessly. She drops to her knees. A sob shakes her shoulders.

Clover’s moving even before he’s completely aware he’s doing it. It’s a quick path from the observation room to the training floor, and… he’s glad it’s him and not the General here today, to keep an eye on her progress.

“Penny,” he starts.

“I can’t do this,” Penny says miserably. “I  _ failed. _ I failed Mantle. I failed Atlas. I failed the General and Winter and you and Uncle Qrow and everyone. I failed  _ everyone. _ I’m… useless.”

“Absolutely not.”

Clover kneels next to her. Hesitates a moment, then wraps an arm around her shoulders. “Hey. What happened there, it wasn’t your fault. It was Callows. Not you.”

“It might as well have been me. What is a Protector of Mantle that  _ can’t protect Mantle? _ I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

“If anyone can, it would be you. And if not… you’ve taken on a burden nobody should have to carry. Least of all you. And you’re still standing.”

Penny, kneeling on the floor and leaning rather heavily into Clover himself, gives him a look.

“Okay, metaphorically speaking,” Clover admits. “I mean… you’re still in one piece. You’re still  _ here. _ Not everyone can say that.”

“Pyrrha Nikos,” Penny says too quietly. “She didn’t mean to tear me apart. She should have lived. She  _ deserved _ to live. She had friends, people who loved her. There is a 78% probability that Weiss loved her the way that you do Uncle Qrow, and a 57% probability that Ruby did as well. She is gone. She can’t come back. I’m here. She is not.”

In any other circumstance, Clover would be touched that he and Qrow are, apparently, Penny’s benchmark for romantic relationships. And possibly a little concerned. As it is, he’s a lot concerned. He offers her a hand, takes hers in his, and gives them a comforting squeeze.

“Much as society would like to convince you otherwise, we can’t choose who dies, and who lives. It happens too fast for that. One moment, your friends are there, and the next… they’re all gone and you’re the only one left.”

Penny looks at him suddenly.

“Don’t bother searching, unless you want to,” Clover continues. He withdraws his arm, tucks his legs into his chest, and breathes in and out. “My original team, back in the academy. Team CEDR. I’m the only one left, now. And… it hurts. It hurts a lot, sometimes. I wonder what life would have been like, if they were still here.”

He forces himself to think of them. Eira, with her quick wit and quick smiles. Roy, the glue that held their team together. And Dunn… arguably the reason Clover had realized he was gay to begin with.

_ Gods _ he misses them all.

“Things could have been different. But they’re not. We were in over our heads. They agreed we needed to send someone back, to get help before it was too late for all of us. Somehow, I got sent back, and I got help. By the time help arrived... “

He sighs, and shakes his head. “It was too late for my team. We were only a few days from graduating. We’d planned so much we were going to do once we did. The military, why join it when we could travel Remnant, together? Except, suddenly, I was alone, and the military didn’t seem so bad.”

“I’m sorry,” Penny says softly.

“If they were here today. If they were here, right now, I know exactly what they’d say. They’d tell me to stop dwelling on the past, to keep moving forward, in spite of everything that’s gone wrong. Because, as long as there’s still good in this world, we were willing to fight for it. And so I do. For them, and for myself.”

Clover looks at Penny again, and smiles. “You’re not alone, Penny. And I’m not anymore, but this isn’t about me. You have people who care about you a lot. And, while Mantle might blame you for what happened on Election Night, I promise you’ve saved more people than died there. And you’ll keep saving them, because we have ways to prove your innocence. You just have to wait a little longer.”

Penny blinks hard a couple times. Clover wonders, for a moment, if she had tear ducts, would she be crying? He rubs her back for good measure. She hiccups.

“I just have to wait a little longer,” she repeats. “In the meantime, I can train. Become better, so this never happens again.”

She gets to her feet, holds out a hand, and pulls Clover to his.

“That’s the spirit. Now, I’m not entirely sure I’m  _ supposed _ to be doing this, but… Penny. You said that you genuinely couldn’t see Callows, correct?”

Penny nods. She raises her hand, and her swords array themselves behind her again. “I couldn’t risk sending my swords where he was,” she says. “Not with so many people.”

Clover nods. “In that case… were any of your other senses impacted?”

Her eyes go wide. He’s guessing that’s a fairly solid no.

“I could have—”

“No dwelling on what’s past,” Clover tells her. “Not to the point where it hurts us more. Remember it, learn from it, but what’s done is done. What’s gone is gone. Now… close your eyes.”

Penny obeys. “What now?”

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to spar. With a twist.” Clover unhooks Kingfisher and continues, “Keep your eyes closed, and focus on keeping track of where I am. Alright?”

Penny nods vigorously. She turns, swords at the ready, as Clover slowly creeps off towards her right. He takes a deep breath, then charges.

Penny isn’t able to block his first strike, but she blocks his second, and his third, and every one besides. By the time the training room is booked for someone else, Penny’s getting the hang of it. She opens her eyes, smiles, and waves as Ruby and Weiss come in.

“Hey, Penny,” Ruby says. “You feeling alright?”

“Much better now that I’m combat-ready!” She throws a salute in Clover’s direction. He smiles in return. “Thank you, Uncle Clover!”

“Of course,” Clover replies. “If you wanted to continue practicing with Ruby and Weiss, I’m sure they would be willing to help. I’m going to go find Qrow.”

“Got some centinel goop on his cloak, try the laundry room,” Weiss offers. “Why am I not remotely surprised that you’re immediately looking for him?”

“Thanks. I’m not surprised you and Ruby booked this particular training room for right after Penny’s session, either.”

Weiss turns as red as Ruby’s namesake. Penny grins and loops her arms around both of the other girls’ arms.

“Neither am I,” Penny says cheerfully. “I am very happy to be training with my girlfriends!”

Weiss turns even redder, but doesn’t deny it. Ruby’s grin matches Penny’s by the time Clover heads out. It’s not until he’s nearly reached the laundry room that it hits him.

Penny called him Uncle Clover, and he might be about to cry because of that fact.

* * *

“We lost her,” Yang says with a quick shake of her head. Blake just stares down the alleyway without a word.

“It happens,” Clover says. “We’ll catch Robyn eventually.”

Blake’s ears twitch. “Do you… think it might be better if we don’t?”

“Sometimes.” Clover frowns, pats her on the shoulder. “I don’t like the idea of arresting someone that’s just trying to help any more than you do. And no, Yang, you do _ not _ need to point out the irony in that statement, I’m well aware.”

“Well,” Yang says, “maybe Blake forgot that’s exactly what you did with us.”

“I didn’t.” Blake smiles anyway, and Yang smiles back.

“It worked out, in the end,” Clover points out. “Our  _ primary _ objective is to keep the transports safe, and by chasing off Robyn, you accomplished that to a T. Well done, you two.”

As Clover turns away to tap in to base, he swears he sees Blake and Yang exchange glances. They’re hiding something. So, when he’s finished reporting in, he asks, “Are you two secretly dating, too?”

Yang manages to choke on thin air.

“Unfortunately, no,” Blake says. She glances at Yang and her smile widens. “Although I certainly wouldn’t say no to it. Secretly or openly.”

“Oh,” is all Yang can get out. “Holy shit, I—alright, we’re doing this. Blake, I love you, you’re amazing.”

“And I you,” Blake says cheerily. “There’s no one I’d rather be here with.”

Clover clears his throat awkwardly. “Now I think I know what you felt like with me and Qrow. Which is to say, congratulations, but I honestly did think you were already dating.”

“Guess we just needed a little extra push. Thanks, Uncle Clover.”

* * *

“Penny has gone missing,” the General says. “We need to find her—”

“She’s with Team RWBY,” Clover supplies. “She’s been powering off when they go to sleep, and that has the side effect of making her no longer appear on any sort of tracking system.”

Clover isn’t sure whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing that he’s somehow rendered the General speechless.

“That’s… better than what I feared,” General Ironwood admits at last. “How is she handling the massacre?”

Clover bites back a  _ you could ask her yourself, _ because as tempting as that is, all the good luck in the world won’t protect him from talking back to a superior, and the General  _ is _ trying his best. Instead, he says, “She’s doing better. Team RWBY is helping her.”

“Glad to hear it. In that case, you are dismissed.”

Clover stops by Team RWBY’s room on the way back to his, and opens the door just a crack. There are four bunks in the room, and not one of them is occupied. Instead, mattresses and blankets and pillows have been dragged to the middle of the room, and all five girls are sprawled in and around said blanket pile. Not one of them is awake.

Blake stirs briefly when Clover opens the door, only to see it’s him, give a sleepy wave, and go right back to sleep with her head against Penny’s chest and her feet intertwined with Yang’s. Ruby’s curled up against Weiss, who’s snoring softly sandwiched between Yang and Blake. In short, they’re the happiest Clover’s seen them.

He leaves them to it, with a smile on his face.

* * *

Almost everyone is gone, at the moment. Penny is helping with repairs to the Atlas Academy infrastructure, since she can fly and is significantly better at welding than most of the military. Most of the kids and most of the Ace Ops are split between a sting operation against the Happy Huntresses, protecting Amity’s launch site, and guarding Mantle’s outer wall.

Clover, however, is not. And, lucky him, neither is Qrow. Which is why they’ve been taking the night easy. Technically, it’s Clover’s turn to play, but he doesn’t really want to  _ move _ so he’s just been curled up against Qrow’s side watching him play Beat Saber for the past few songs.

“Your turn,” Qrow says anyway as he finishes a song.

“Mmm,” Clover agrees and makes no move to… well, move.

“I’ll do one more. Then my arms are getting tired.” He scrolls through the list with one of the controllers, and eventually settles on a song. “Ruby likes this one.”

Clover squints sleepily at the screen. “This Will Be The Day?”

“Yeah. I know most of the lyrics, too. No, I’m not singing along, do  _ not _ give me that look, Cloves.”

Fortunately for Qrow’s pride, and unfortunately for Clover’s curiosity, it’s then that there’s a knock on the door. Quiet, hesitant, but definitely there. 

“I got it,” Clover says, if a little reluctantly.

He untangles himself from Qrow, gets up even more reluctantly, and opens it. He’s expecting someone sent to go grab them for a last minute mission. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Instead, it’s someone in an Atlas Academy t-shirt and sweatpants, looking considerably more nervous than usual, and rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Hazel eyes, scruffy brown hair, and—most concerningly—visibly shaken.

“Hi,” Oscar says quietly. “Sorry. I’ll just. Go.”

Clover takes a good look at him and shakes his head. “Something’s clearly bothering you. You want to talk about it?”

“Not really, I—I just. Really don’t want to be alone right now.”

Oscar doesn’t even have to say the word  _ nightmare _ , it’s written all over his face. Clover gives him a smile and opens the door wider.

“You’re welcome to stay with us for a while. We’re just playing Beat Saber.”

Even as Oscar lets himself be ushered in, he says, “If that’s a way of saying you’re— _ oh my god you’re actually playing a game.” _

Qrow raises a controller and waves. “Hey, pipsqueak. You want to play?”

“I—uh, sure. Maybe after you play a round. I thought you were talking about something completely different.”

Eventually, Oscar settles between them on the couch—there’s perks to being the leader of the Ace Ops, and Clover had been spending more time in Qrow’s room lately anyway—and watches Qrow start the song. He watches, surprisingly even more quiet than usual, as Qrow proceeds to metaphorically kick the song where it hurts. Even if he insists on using the straps.

The song comes to a close, and Qrow nudges Oscar. 

“Look cool?”

_ “Yes,” _ Oscar says emphatically. “It also looks very, very hard.”

“There’s easier songs to start with. Like… Shine?”

“Shine’s alright,” Clover agrees.

Qrow passes over the controllers, and Oscar looks at the straps. “Do I need to—”

“No.”

“Yes,” Qrow says. “They’re there for a reason, and I’m working on Cloves.”

“They just get in the way,” Clover points out.

“They’re there for a reason and that reason is  _ safety. _ ”

Oscar looks at Clover, then at Qrow, and sighs. “I’ll just wear the straps.”

As it turns out, Oscar is fairly good at the game for someone who’s never played it before. He does Shine alright, then moves on to another song, and then another. Eventually, he puts the controllers down, and says, “I… thanks for just. Letting me be here.”

“Course,” Clover says. “Being alone at night’s hard.”

“Yeah,” Qrow agrees. “Listen. If everyone else is gone, and you don’t want to be alone, you’re welcome to come over and play Beat Saber. Or just hang out.”

For the first time tonight, Oscar smiles. “Thank you.”

He passes the controllers to Clover. He’s asleep before the next song’s over.

“Hey, Oscar,” Clover says, keeping his voice low. No response. He turns his attention to Qrow and says, quietly, “I think he had a nightmare.”

Qrow nods. “Bet I know what about. Back at Haven, one of Salem’s people… calls himself Hazel. Has some  _ serious _ beef with Oz, and while I can’t really blame him, he took it out on Oscar.”

Clover winces. “Remind me to give him a piece of my mind if we ever run into him.”

“You’ll have to get in line.”

Oscar shifts in his sleep, unconsciously puts both of them closer. Clover’s smile returns. He ruffles Oscar’s hair some.

“He’s a good kid,” Clover says.

“Yeah. Yeah, he is. We’re lucky to have him.”

* * *

The real sign that something is seriously wrong with the world is not a long-dead serial killer turning up working for Salem, or how huntsmen and huntresses that wouldn’t even have graduated their academy yet have the paranoia of Great War veterans.

No, the  _ real  _ sign that something is seriously wrong with the world is Nora willingly skipping dinner. At first, Clover wonders if maybe she’s just late. But no, five minutes pass, then ten, then fifteen. Suddenly it’s been an entire hour, and Ren, while here, has barely touched his food.

Across the cafeteria, Qrow and Clover exchange glances. Qrow pulls out his scroll and looks meaningfully at Clover.

_ Scareqrow: im worried about nora _

_ Scareqrow: dont want to alarm the other kids but rens looking pretty alarmed _

_ Scareqrow: can you grab him and go look for her _

_ Me: give me like two seconds, I think I can talk the kitchen staff into giving me some dinner to go _

_ Scareqrow: youll have better luck than me _

_ Me: I mean, I’m sure you’d find a way to get it yourself even if they said no _

_ Scareqrow: ;) _

That done, Clover gets some dinner for Nora, and taps Ren on the shoulder. He startles.

“Let’s go find Nora,” Clover says quietly. “Bring your dinner, you need to eat too.”

“I’m not hungry,” Ren says unconvincingly.

“You’ll be hungry later.” 

Clover hopes he was able to make it clear he’s not taking no for an answer. Either he succeeded, or Ren decided it isn’t worth it, because he nods, grabs his tray, and follows Clover out the door of the mess hall. 

“You have any idea what’s going on?” Clover tries.

“No.”

Somehow, Clover gets the distinct feeling he’s lying.

“Right. You have any idea where she is?”

“No.”

He looks Clover in the eyes this time, so either he’s telling the truth or he’s lying more effectively. Clover frowns.

“Right. Let’s start looking, then.”

It’s a hunch and a lucky guess that brings him to the training rooms first. It’s obvious, from the angry yells and metal  _ crunches _ coming from within, that it’s Nora there.

That, or Elm on a particularly bad day, but the sign-in on the door says  _ Nora Valkyrie _ so it’s definitely not Elm.

Clover opens the door, and is greeted by Nora using her hammer to crush a simulated enemy into simulated bits. She bashes it over and over, again and again. She’s breathing heavily, and a look at Clover’s scroll confirms that her aura’s in the red.

She  _ needs _ to take a break. But before Clover can step forward, Ren does.

“Nora,” Ren calls. “You… missed dinner.”

“So what?” Nora grips Magnhild tighter. She doesn’t turn to face either of them.

“Okay, who are you, and what did you do with the real Nora?” Clover asks.

_ That _ gets her to turn. 

“The real Nora,” she all but hisses, “hasn’t been here since—”

“The night of the election,” Ren says, and Nora falls silent. “Ruby wasn’t distracted. She wasn’t able to catch him either.”

“But that doesn’t mean we wouldn’t have! If we’d just—if I’d just  _ waited _ for  _ once in my life _ .”

“Working yourself to the point of exhaustion isn’t going to catch Callows,” Clover says. He takes a step forward, then another, until he’s only a few feet away from the girl holding a hammer crackling with electricity. “When he  _ does _ show himself again, which he will, we’ll all have better chances against him if we’re well-rested. Skipping meals isn’t going to do that.”

“We brought food,” Ren offers, and Nora’s eyes light up. But she hesitates.

“You two need to eat,” Clover says. “I already did. Then you can get back to work.”

Nora nods. Determined, she sheathes her hammer and snatches the tray Clover’s carrying right out of his grip. She carries it over to the side of the training room, and Ren follows it with his own. Before he does, he looks to Clover.

_ Thanks, _ is the clear message sent with his eyes.

* * *

Pyrrha Nikos, Clover reflects, was a lucky girl to have so many people that cared about her so much. Before she died trying to protect them, that is.

Apparently, she had been a candidate for the next Fall Maiden, before one Cinder Fall swept in and caused a quite  _ literal _ Fall. There were two casualties. Penny had, fortunately, come back.

Pyrrha had not, and that’s why Oscar has been frantically texting Clover at late hours of the night, when most of the group assigned to Amity were off on one mission or another.

_ Small Son: jaunes sad and qrows out on a mission can u come _

_ Me: sure, do you have any reason why he’s sad? _

_ Small Son: i think its pyrrha _

_ Small Son: the original p in jnpr :( _

_ Me: ohhh. I’m on my way. _

He runs into Oscar in the hallway leading to Teams RWBY and JNPR’s rooms. He takes one look at Clover and visibly relaxes.

“Good, you’re here, I’m gonna go grab some hot chocolate. It makes me feel better when I’m feeling down.” Oscar pauses. “Can I… do that? Bring food to the dorms?”

“If someone tries to make an issue of it, tell them you have my permission,” Clover says, and Oscar rushes off.

_ Hopefully _ nobody will make an issue of it, but if they do, Clover is going to have some serious words for them. For now, he has another priority.

He opens the door, and is greeted by Jaune, curled up in a ball on his bunk and clutching at least two blankets like a lifeline. He wipes his eyes and looks up. His eyes are red and Clover can see him blinking back tears.

Clover takes a seat on the bunk next to him in silence. Eventually, he offers Jaune a hand. Jaune takes it, and grips it tightly.

“You want to talk about it?” Clover asks.

Jaune nods, and promptly stops sobbing again. Clover rubs his back.

“I m-miss her,” he chokes out. 

Clover rubs his back harder.

“She should… b-be here. She should  _ be _ a… a  _ huntress. _ She shouldn’t be… s-shouldn’t be…” Jaune sucks in a breath. “Can I… tell you a secret?”

“Sure.” Clover has a bad feeling about this, but he isn’t quite sure why. He gives Jaune’s hand a squeeze.

“You need to… to p-promise not to tell anyone.”

Clover nods. “I swear on my honor as a huntsman.”

“I… I keep having these nightmares. Seeing Pyrrha… seeing P-Pyrrha…” He blinks hard, wipes his eyes again. “I’ve. Gotten used to that, b-by now. Watching her… d-die. But tonight… I. I d-didn’t see Cinder murder her.”

He sniffles and says, oh so quietly, “I saw her murder M-Marrow.”

_ Oh. _ Oh no. Well, Marrow will be happy to know his feelings are reciprocated… except that Clover just swore on his honor as a huntsman not to tell anyone about this. Oh no.

“Cinder Fall is dead, isn’t she?” Clover asks.

Jaune nods. “But I… I was useless against her. She killed Pyrrha. She nearly killed Weiss. I… was able to s-save Weiss, but only because she l-left with… Yang’s mom and the Spring Maiden. Y-Yang said her mom killed her.”

This is the first Clover’s heard about Yang’s mom, presumably Ruby’s as well. He’s heard about their dad, and he’s  _ dating _ their uncle, but their mom… left. With Cinder Fall. To do… something.

Curiosity has to wait. Jaune’s still crying.

“She’s gone. She can never kill anyone you care about again. And if, somehow, she tried? I can assure you Marrow can take care of himself. He’s in the Ace Ops for a reason.”

As Oscar comes back in, carefully balancing three steaming mugs of hot cocoa in his arms, Clover decides that the puzzle that is Qrow’s sister(?) will have to wait. That’s getting shelved, because these kids being at least  _ okay _ is top priority.

And, if he can figure out some way to encourage Marrow to talk to Jaune about their  _ shared _ feelings, that might make his top priority a lot easier.

* * *

“Huntsman Branwen,” Marrow greets as Qrow walks in. He’s doing something on his scroll that he closes before Qrow can get a good look at it, but it looks suspiciously like the messaging app.

“Call me Qrow,” the huntsman in question mutters. For good measure, he adds, “ _ Please. _ Huntsman Branwen makes me sound like a stuffy old teacher.”

“You  _ were _ a teacher,” Marrow points out. “At Signal Academy.”

Qrow sighs, takes a seat next to him in the common room, and leans back with his hands behind his head. “Who told you?”

“I looked it up. You  _ were _ making advances on my commanding officer.”

Despite the stern look on his face, Marrow’s tail is wagging away. Qrow looks at it meaningfully and raises an eyebrow. Marrow grabs it a little too quickly.

“Cloves is a good guy,” Qrow says. He smiles. “So. What’s bugging you?”

“What makes you think something is bugging me?”

Marrow would have been convincing if not for the way he nearly jumped when Qrow asked the question, and the aforementioned tail, which he’d only just let go.

“I deal with eight kids on a regular basis. Trust me. I can tell. What’s bugging you?”

Marrow doesn’t answer at first. He pulls out his scroll, even as he’s careful to angle it so Qrow can’t catch a glimpse of what he’s doing. He stares at it for a few, long moments, then closes his eyes and sighs.

“How did you know Clover liked you as more than a friend?”

This is essentially another kid, just in a fancier uniform. But Qrow can only tone down his patented Are-You-Serious Look so much, even for a kid.

“The flirting made it pretty damn obvious, although I gotta say it took me a while to figure out he wasn’t just fucking with me.”

Marrow glares at him. “Clover would  _ never. _ ”

“You know that. I know that now.” Qrow shrugs. “I didn’t know that then.”

Marrow averts his gaze to the floor. 

“Fair enough,” he admits. “Fine. How did Clover figure out you liked him back?”

“You’re better off asking Clover that one. But, gonna be honest with you here? It probably had something to do with me grabbing him and kissing the living daylights out of him.”

Marrow drops his scroll. It shatters.

_“Fuck,”_ Marrow swears vehemently yet forlornly.

“Sorry,” Qrow says with a wince. “I’ll get you a new one.”

“You’re… serious, though. You just went up to him, and kissed him. And it worked?”

“Pup, who are you talking about?” Qrow asks. “Because, if it’s any of my kids, I’d like to think I have some idea of what their love lives are like.”

Marrow visibly flushes. “Um.”

Qrow  _ may _ have been a gambler, once, one of many bad habits he’d picked up over the years. And while he might have sucked at it, other people sucked more. So maybe, if he makes a guess, his bad luck will kick in so it’s right, and so Marrow’s shocked?

Luck’s relative and weird. Fuck it.

Without warning, Qrow says, “If you’re talking about Jaune, I have it on good authority that he likes you back.”

If it’s possible for Marrow to turn a brighter red, he does, and all he can manage is incoherent stammering. Qrow smiles, and pats him on the shoulder.

Then the door opens, and—how luckily unlucky for Marrow—Jaune walks in.

“Good luck,” Qrow says. He gets up, and leaves, and only when he’s halfway across the academy does it hit him who he sounds like. 

He groans. Cloves really is rubbing off on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Polyship name for Frozen Steel + Bumblebee is now Artificial Pollination, unless someone else comes up with a better one. Yes, this is minus Enabler, I'd hope that would go without saying.
> 
> Uh, really sorry about giving Clover teammates and then making them all dead. I will say that they might show up in one way or another at some point, and that Eira was a goose faunus who will definitely be reappearing in my other works but not as one of Clover's former teammates and she won't be super dead in any other universe cause I like her too much. Sorry about Team CEDR though. I'm sad too. :(
> 
> And sorry, my hand slipped and some angst went in here. If it makes y'all feel any better, this pales in comparison to what I have planned for Day 5? Yeah, Day 5. See y'all tomorrow.


	4. Birdie, NO!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six times Qrow does strange things without explanation, and one time a crow flies into Clover’s window.
> 
> Day 4: Birds/Soulmates

At any given time in the night, it’s essentially a coin toss whether or not Clover will wake up to find Qrow there or not. Actually, no, his semblance manages to rig coin tosses most of the time, except when Qrow is involved. It’s an _actual_ 50/50 shot, or close to it.

Which is fine! He’s always back again by the morning, curled up with all of the blankets on his side of the bed like he never left, and for a while, Clover doesn’t ask about it. It’s entirely possible that he’s just dreaming it, or so he thinks for a while.

Eventually, he has the foresight to type a note to his future, more awake self in his scroll before rolling over and going back to sleep. 

_Qrow gone, you’re not imagining this, ask him about it. Sincerely, Past Clover._

When he wakes up again, Qrow’s there, stirring sleepily but otherwise making no move to shift his position _or_ relinquish the grip he has around Clover’s midsection. 

“Morning,” Clover says fondly.

“Mmmh,” Qrow replies and pulls him closer.

Honestly, it’s very tempting not to move at all. But Clover stretches a little anyway, manages to just _barely_ grasp his scroll and open it. He opens it, navigates to the notes app, and—his heart sinks.

Written at 2:59 AM: _Qrow gone, you’re not imagining this, ask him about it. Sincerely, Past Clover._

“Hey, Qrow?”

Tired red eyes blink open, gaze up at him. “What’s Jimmy want now?”

“Nothing, actually.” Well, he’s sure the General wants _something_ but that’s not what he needs to bring up. “Where do you go at night?”

Qrow stiffens. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I mean, I _was._ ” Clover shows him the note to his future self wordlessly. “Is everything alright? This isn’t the first time I woke up to find you gone.”

“Mmm. Sometimes I just get… restless. Need some fresh air. Have to stretch my wings, you know.”

Clover raises an eyebrow at that particular phrasing. “Metaphorically, you mean?”

“Hey. Cloves.” Qrow pokes him in the nose with a sly smile. “You’re welcome to come looking for me next time you can’t find me at night. I won’t go far. Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

* * *

The next time Clover wakes up alone at night, he slips on an old Academy t-shirt and pants and heads out. Qrow’s scroll is busy when he calls it, and as successful as tracking his scroll would undoubtedly be, that both would take too long and would be cheating, in a sense.

Besides. Clover is feeling pretty lucky. So, after swinging by the kitchens for some hot cocoa, he heads outside. He doesn’t, as it turns out, have to go far.

“Hey, Cloves!”

The courtyard is deserted, but that’s _definitely_ Qrow. And his yell didn’t come from ground level. Slowly, so as not to spill the cocoa—Clover might be feeling lucky, but even he won’t tempt fate too much—he turns around, and looks up.

“What are you doing on the roof?” Clover asks. He frowns. “How did you _get_ up there?”

“Have to keep _some_ secrets, don’t I?” Qrow grins. He takes a seat on the edge of the roof, lets his legs dangle. Harbinger is nowhere in sight. “You want to come?”

“I would love to, except I’m not sure how _you_ got up there and _I’m_ holding two mugs. Cocoa. You want some?”

Qrow shrugs. “Sure.” He jumps, lands on his feet, and strolls over to where Clover’s standing. He takes a mug, holds it for a moment just to warm his hands. “Thanks.”

Clover puts a hand around his, and the frown that had been rapidly disappearing reappears. It’s not in confusion this time, but concern. “Qrow, you’re _freezing._ What are you doing out here?”

“Wandering, I guess. And I’m not freezing anymore.” Qrow’s still present grin only widens. “I’ve got you here, Mr. I Don’t Need Sleeves.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a really gay space heater.”

Clover thanks his semblance for keeping him from drinking his cocoa at that particular moment, because he _would_ have done a spit-take directly into Qrow’s face.

* * *

“Have you seen Qrow?” Clover asks.

“Kitchen,” Yang says, breezing past arm in arm with Weiss. 

Clover wonders, briefly, if he should tell them to be careful. Then he remembers that this is _Yang Xiao Long_ and _Weiss Schnee,_ and even without their weapons they’re perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. Also Yang has a shotgun in her arm. They’ll be fine, and if they know where Qrow is he probably already gave them the _stay out of trouble_ talk.

So he says, “Thanks, have fun,” and heads for the kitchens. He does find Qrow there, perched on the countertop and glaring across the room at an oven.

“I’ll wipe it down once I’m done,” Qrow mutters without looking at him, “and you will _not_ be able to catch me if you try to get me out of here so _let me finish my fucking cookies, dammit._ There’s enough that can go wrong _without_ outside interference.”

“I didn’t say anything, but I’ll help you wipe everything down once you’re done if someone gets mad about it,” Clover says. Qrow’s head snaps around to look at him. “Hello, Qrow. Cookies?”

Qrow stares at him wordlessly for a moment, apparently making a decision, before he nods. “I wanted to surprise you with them but they’re almost done anyway. So. Uh. What time is it?”

Clover pulls out his scroll, gives it a cursory glance, and puts it away again. “5:18. Why?”

“We need to take them out at 5:22.” Qrow looks back to the oven and winces. “Actually, it might be better if you take them out, good old Murphy hasn’t fucked things up yet but I wouldn’t put it past him to start now.”

“Uh… okay. Murphy?”

“My semblance. Murphy’s law. Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Jaune started calling my semblance Murphy on the last mission and honestly, is _he_ wrong?”

“Point taken.” Clover glances at his scroll again. “5:21.”

He pushes off the counter. Qrow passes him a set of checkered pink oven mitts. He strides over with the confidence of someone who has luck _and_ skill on his side—perhaps not when it comes to cooking, but this can’t be _that_ hard—and removes the tray.

He sets it on the counter to cool, and only then does it occur what kind of cookies these are.

“You don’t like raisins,” Clover says.

“You do,” Qrow says with a shrug. “Was clearing out old pictures on my scroll and found Summer’s old cookie recipes. I only remember her making chocolate chip, but I found an oatmeal raisin one too. So, hope you like them.”

 _“I love you,”_ Clover says even more emphatically than usual. He presses a careful finger to one of the cookies. Still too hot to eat, so he retreats to the countertop and gives Qrow a kiss.

“We know this,” Qrow says fondly. “Who was the one who took one look at me and decided, _oooh, I’ve got to arrest this guy but I’m gonna make sure he gets my best angle straight up?”_

“First off, orders. Second off, nothing about me is straight and you know this. Third off, here I was thinking you missed that.”

Qrow rolls his eyes. “Please. You weren’t exactly subtle.”

“Nothing about me is straight _or_ subtle.” A thought occurs to him, suddenly. “Hey, where did you get the raisins? The Academy’s been out for a couple weeks now, and they don’t sell them anywhere in Atlas.”

“Mantle.”

Clover nods in understanding. Then he frowns, because suddenly he doesn’t. “How did you get down there? All non-military transports have been suspended for the foreseeable future. Unless you went on a mission down there, and took a break to buy raisins.”

“Maybe I did.” Qrow winks. “I think your cookies are cool. I sure hope _you_ like them, because you’re the only one who’ll eat them. Except maybe Nora.”

* * *

The mission is going great. Or as well as any mission involving Grimm, which are unpredictable and dangerous, can be. Which is to say, it’s not going _great_ necessarily but it’s not necessarily going terrible, either, and Clover is nothing if not an optimist in the darkest of times. 

A flock(?) of flying Grimm had been giving the Atlesian city defenses some trouble, and so a group was sent out to deal with them consisting of Clover, Qrow, Ren, and Blake. A temporary Team CQBL, if you will. It had seemed, originally, like sending four people was overkill.

Now that he’s in the thick of things, Clover can safely say that sending four people was, if anything, underkill. There’s _so many of them_ , it’s no _wonder_ Atlas’ defenses were having trouble, they’re meant to target big Grimm that individual hunters have trouble with.

Kingfisher’s hook cuts neatly through one of the fratterkies. Clover swings it around, wrapping the line around another, and _pulls_ . Thirty-three, thirty-four, and countless more to go, _why_ do these bird Grimm have to travel in _packs._

Well, the technical term according to Ren is a _puff_ of fratterkies, but that makes these sound altogether too harmless and not murderous in the slightest. Which is a thoroughly inaccurate description, they’re _extremely_ murderous.

“Thirty-four!” Clover calls. 

Closer to the edge, Qrow laughs, lowers Harbinger, and presses a finger to his ear just to say, “Forty-four. You’re getting sloppy, Cloves!”

“Thirty-five, thirty— _QROW!”_

The panicked scream of his boyfriend’s name is prompted when a particularly plump fratterky dives for Qrow, knocking him off his feet, breaking his aura, and throwing him over the edge. Over the side of _Atlas,_ which is thousands of feet in the air. Clover runs for him, shoving through a crowd of fratterkies suddenly attracted to his very strong negative emotions.

He’s too late. By the time he gets there, Qrow’s gone. He has Kingfisher at the ready, ready to at least try and pull him back up and if not, to jump after him and make sure they can land safely. He has aura to spare. Qrow doesn’t.

Except, when he reaches the edge, Qrow is _gone_ gone. There’s no sign of him, nothing save the fratterky that slams bodily into him, knocking him flat onto his back and knocking the wind out of him. Its beak opens, revealing _far_ more teeth than any animal should have, which is the main difference between fratterkies and the animals they’re easily mistaken for, puffins.

Too. Many. Teeth.

Clover kicks up off the ground, sending the fratterky flying with a surprised squawk, and then a scythe cuts it into oblivion. 

A… scythe. _Harbinger._

And its wielder is offering Clover a hand up, and it’s Qrow, and even while there’s still an unholy amount of fratterkies around Clover can’t stop himself from hugging him.

“Hey, Cloves,” Qrow says with a laugh. “That was a close one, huh? Probably should save the PDA for later, though.”

“Yeah,” Clover agrees, forcing a smile. They break apart. “I… I thought you were gone. How did you get back up?”

Qrow opens his mouth to respond, then shuts it, and then he raises Harbinger in shotgun form and shoots a fratterky over Clover’s shoulder. “I have my ways.”

“Guess so.” Clover takes a deep breath and returns to the fight. “I mean, this could be worse. These could be the explosive ones.”

Qrow lets out a string of curses so vehement that, a short distance away, Blake’s ears twitch.

“There are _explosive_ fratterkies? Why does _anyone live here?”_

* * *

Of all the things Clover could have come back from a late mission to, Qrow is arguably fairly high on that list, particularly when _he_ doesn’t have a mission as well. Qrow in a veritable nest of blankets is… slightly lower on that list, but not really a surprise considering the blankets tend to end up on Qrow’s side of the bed no matter what.

Something that isn’t even on the list: Qrow fast asleep in a makeshift nest of blankets not _on_ the bed, or the couch, but literally _right in front of the door_ , on the floor, to the point where Clover nearly trips over him when he tries to come in.

“What the—” Clover’s eyes adjust to the low lighting, and he sees Qrow blinking owlishly up at him. “Hi. Qrow. Any particular reason you’re sleeping here, or…”

“Mmmmmph,” Qrow says, and goes right back to sleeping, leaving Clover standing in full uniform, wondering how in the world he’s going to get through.

Eventually, he shrugs to himself. He kneels, tucks his arms under Qrow’s, and drags him out of the blanket pile. Qrow, surprisingly, doesn’t stir.

That’s okay.

Clover tucks an arm under Qrow’s back, another under his legs, and stands. Carefully stepping over the now unoccupied blanket pile, he even more carefully scoots around the darkened room, and gently deposits Qrow onto the bed. He leans in, plants a kiss on Qrow’s forehead, and goes to get the blankets.

Boyfriend: check. Blankets: check. Now he just needs to get out of his uniform and into something he can actually sleep in.

When he’s not already tired, it takes him five minutes to get out of his uniform. It takes him ten this time, and he’s even more tired when he’s done. Which is why, upon exiting the bathroom and seeing Qrow having somehow resumed his former position in front of the door, fast asleep, blankets and all, Clover just stands and stares for a few long, tired moments.

Then he sighs fondly, grabs the lone pillow Qrow left on the bed, and joins him.

* * *

“I really would have thought you’d have moved on by now,” Clover tells the crow perched on the edge of the picnic table. “Do crows migrate?”

The crow caws indignantly, and hops closer. Clover circles an arm protectively around his lunch before it gets any ideas. He’d really rather not lose another sandwich to this winged fiend.

“Absolutely _not_ ,” he tells it. “I am _not_ making the same mistake twice. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Or so the saying goes.”

He swears, if a crow can look disappointed, this one does.

“No. Don’t try it.”

_“Caw!”_

_“No.”_

He raises a finger and shakes it for good measure. Apparently, his finger looks like a tasty worm, though, because the crow hops closer and attempting to shoo it does nothing.

Clover sighs. “Okay, who’s been feeding you. Is it Qrow?”

The crow cocks its head curiously.

“Not you,” he corrects, and it almost looks annoyed. “My boyfriend. His name’s Qrow, with a Q. _You_ stole his lunch.”

Self-satisfied caw. Clover doesn’t know how much it _can_ understand him, but clearly it understands enough. He pulls his tray closer and, shaking his head, leans over it. His clover pin glints in the afternoon sun.

The crow caws appraisingly.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Clover says, and three things happen in quick succession.

First, in a stroke of bad luck that would make _his_ Qrow burst out laughing, his pin pops off.

Second, Clover’s eyes go wide, and he makes a wild grab for it.

Third, his semblance triggers for the crow, who darts in and right back out with a new shiny toy clamped in its beak. A new shiny toy that is, unfortunately, _Clover’s pin._ Which he happens to _like_ thank you very much.

 _“No,”_ Clover breathes. “I… okay, listen. Please just hear me out. You can have my lunch, you can have whatever you want, just give me that back.”

The crow cocks its head questioningly, and… fuck it, he’s going to try explaining himself to a crow. Why not.

“It was a gift from my teammates, back at the academy,” Clover tells it. “Early graduation gift. And by that I mean I’m about ninety percent sure Eira stole it and the others decided to pin it, literally speaking, on the person least likely to get in trouble for it, but…”

Clover sighs, shakes his head. “It’s all I’ve got left of them, now. I was the only one of us who made it _to_ graduation.”

The pin clatters to the table. Before Clover can so much as say _thank you_ , the crow’s flown away, leaving nothing but a dark feather in its wake. Clover catches the feather, holds it for a moment, before setting the feather down and picking up his pin again.

He holds it for a moment. Smiles. Pins it back on. Tries not to think of Team CEDR too hard. 

And, almost _too_ coincidentally, a text comes from Qrow.

_Scareqrow: hey lucky charm_

_Scareqrow: you doing ok_

_Me: yeah, thanks for asking!_

_Me: I’m just a little down at the moment, that’s all_

_Scareqrow: im coming to hug you_

_Me: isn’t that my job?_

_Scareqrow: my job now_

_Me: uhhh ok. I’m in the outside area of the cafeteria_

_Scareqrow: i know ;)_

Clover frowns, raises an eyebrow. Before he can text back to ask Qrow how, exactly, he knows, someone hugs him from behind. Call it a lucky guess, but he’s pretty sure it’s Qrow.

“Thanks,” Clover says quietly.

“Anytime, Cloves.”

* * *

Of all the ways to be woken up at ungodly hours of the morning, an extremely loud _THUD_ is not one of the better ones. Especially not when you’re a huntsman, and loud noises generally mean Grimm. But a quick fumble for his scroll confirms to Clover that no, there’s not any Grimm, and it’s too early for anyone not required to be up to be doing much of anything so it’s probably not the kids’ shenanigans either.

He frowns, looks around. There’s the first rays of daylight streaming in through the window, illuminating his room. Nothing looks out of the ordinary, except… he looks at the window again.

There’s something small and dark huddled against the window, just barely visible above the frame, and Clover’s heart sinks just looking at it. He makes it over, carefully raises the sill, and his heart sinks further.

His original hunch was right, unfortunately. It _is_ a bird. More concerningly, it’s a bird with dark feathers, very likely a crow, and considering there’s only one crow that’s been hanging around Atlas lately, unless you count one Qrow Branwen… admittedly, Qrow isn’t here at the moment, but still.

The lunch-stealing crow just _flew into his window._ It’s not moving, either. Clover suppresses a wince and tries to rack his brain for what exactly to do in this situation. Eventually he gives up and runs a search on his scroll.

 _How to help a bird who has flown into a window._ Good enough.

_Step 1: Gently cover and catch the bird with a towel and place them in a paper bag or cardboard box (with air holes) that is securely closed._

Okay. He can do that. Carefully checking to make sure that the window won’t slide shut on its own—it has a _bad_ habit of doing that when it’s opened, he really needs to fix that at some point—he goes to get a towel. The crow still hasn’t stirred when he comes back with a towel, and for a few moments he’s irrationally terrified that it might be dead. Which is ridiculous, it’s a bird, and… okay, he’d still feel bad if it died by flying into its window.

When he carefully gathers it up in the towel, he can feel its heart beating still. So there is that, at least. Now he just needs… a paper bag. Or a cardboard box. Neither of which he has, but the article on his scroll seems to have thought that any warm, quiet, dark place _with a way for fresh air to get in so the poor bird doesn’t suffocate_ would work.

He eventually settles for a drawer in his bedside table. He opens the drawer, places the crow in as gently as he can, and closes it enough that the crow won’t be able to fly out, but not so much that it’ll suffocate. For obvious reasons. Then he’ll just feel even worse and the crow will have died directly because of him.

He keeps the lights turned down low, makes sure his dresser is in shadow, and scrolls down to the next step.

_Step 2: Keep the bird in a quiet, warm, dark place, away from activity._

Okay. He can do that. But for how long?

_Step 3: Check on the bird every 30 minutes, but don't touch the bird._

Every half an hour, okay, he can do that too. In the meantime, he scrolls down to the rest of the article for good measure. He’s got twenty-nine minutes to go.

_Step 4: If the bird seems to recover, carry the container outside and open it. Then step back, remain quiet, and see if the bird flies away. If they don't fly away, carefully take them back inside._

_Step 5: If the bird doesn't recover within a few hours, but is still breathing, contact a wildlife rehabilitator._

Okay. He’ll do that. Honestly, considering how much of a menace this bird can normally be, he could _probably_ just set the crow on the windowsill and hope for the best, it seems fairly used to civilization. Considering it stole parts of at least two lunches and was clearly angling for a third.

But then again, it _had_ his pin, and it dropped it. Which had to have been a coincidence, but it certainly was a lucky one, and you wouldn’t catch Clover complaining.

Twenty-seven minutes to go. He moves to the other side of the room, and gives Qrow a call.

Busy. _Immediately._ That… can’t be right, scrolls don’t just go to busy that fast unless there’s genuinely no hope of reaching the number. Could be if he was out of range, but Qrow wouldn’t willingly be up this early and out of range unless he had a mission. And he doesn’t have a mission, because Clover’s the one who _assigns_ most of the missions.

He tries again. Still busy, and Clover tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. Qrow’s fine. Has to be.

Twenty-five minutes. He starts texting.

_Me: hey Ruby_

_Zoomer: hey uncle clo!!! :D_

_Zoomer: morning!!!_

_Zoomer: surprised youre up lol_

_Me: yeah me too_

_Me: a bird flew into my window, if you can believe that._

_Zoomer: wait really???_

_Me: yeah_

_Me: that’s what woke me up actually… don’t suppose you have any idea where Qrow is?_

_Zoomer: hmmm maybe_

_Zoomer: out of curiosity, what kind of bird was it?_

_Me: crow, ironically enough_

_Zoomer: OH_

_Zoomer: is he ok???_

_Me: the bird? don’t know yet, I’ve been following the instructions I got online and I really hope it’ll turn out okay_

_Zoomer: hes been thru tougher lol_

_Zoomer: if he can survive getting body slammed out of the sky by yours truly on my first day at beacon he can survive anything!!!_

_Me: he’s been following you that long?_

_Zoomer: lol ye!!_

_Zoomer: uncle qrow likes him :D_

_Me: wait really? what’s his name?_

_Zoomer: ...crow_

_Me: really._

_Zoomer: i gotta gooooo the gfs are calling and i must go bye uncle clo dw about it hell be fine_

Ruby doesn’t respond to any further texts. So, eventually and close to the thirty minute mark, Clover gets up and carefully opens the drawer more fully.

The crow blinks up at him blearily, still at least a little out of it but awake if not alert. Clover feels himself visibly relax.

“Should have known better than to think a window could take the likes of you down,” he murmurs fondly. Carefully, he gathers the towel around the crow again and carries him back to the still-open window. “Apparently Ruby slammed into you on her first day at Beacon. That… must have hurt. Quite a bit.”

“Caw,” the crow protests weakly, although Clover’s less sure it’s about what he’s saying so much as being set down on the windowsill and freed from the towel.

Clover takes a step back and waits. Slowly, miraculously, the crow hops to its feet and ruffles its feathers. Nothing seems to be broken, which is a relief. It stretches its wings, moves to fly off, then stops, and turns back to him.

“Consider this payback for not stealing my pin. And… maybe stay away from closed windows in the future.”

It happens fast. One moment, the crow’s staring him down, clearly unimpressed. Clover blinks. Suddenly, _Qrow’s_ sitting there, twirling a dark feather between his thumb and forefinger, and sporting a nasty-looking black eye. He meets Clover’s eyes and smiles.

“I wouldn’t have tried to fly through it if I’d known it was _closed,”_ Qrow says in an almost teasing manner, and that’s the last thing Clover’s brain needs for it to click.

His jaw drops anyway.

“You’re a crow,” Clover manages to get out.

“Well, yeah, you’re telling me you can’t turn into a lucky weed?” Qrow retorts. He pushes himself off the windowsill, carefully slides the window shut, and, in a deft motion, sticks the remaining feather behind Clover’s ear. “Magic exists and you’re aware of it, is this really so far-fetched? It’s an Oz thing.”

“That, no,” Clover admits. “You’re _the_ crow. The one that stole my sandwich.”

His grin turns slightly sheepish. “I _did_ tell you no self-respecting bird would want your raisins.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fratterkies, or as I like to call them, murder puffins, are a kind of Grimm I made up a few hours ago solely because I needed something similar to Lancers that wouldn't immediately die out in the cold Solitas weather. They fly a bit better than regular puffins, and they have... a _lot_ more teeth. [Exhibit A](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/577249937851547668/690364548154392607/puffin2.jpg) (courtesy of [Flamesong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamesong/pseuds/Flamesong).) Feel free to borrow them. They're terrifying.
> 
> Qrow flying into a window is something I've had planned since I came up with my plans for FG Week, and I'm really happy I was able to make that happen. Now, for Day 5... you may want to bring tissues. Just a quick heads up. (Trust me. :D)
> 
> The article Clover found on helping unlucky birds flying into windows may be found [here](https://www.humanesociety.org/resources/make-your-windows-bird-safe), with some modifications.


	5. Ironwood, Ironwouldn't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six times Clover‘s luck fails him, and one time Qrow’s does.
> 
> Day 5: Hurt/Comfort

“Clover, you  _ really _ shouldn’t be on your scroll while walking,” Vine says for about the fiftieth time this month.

“Of course,” Clover says, making no move to put it away as they head for the training rooms.

Vine sighs. “There’s a reason Elm breaks her scroll so often, and it’s because she does the same thing you do  _ without _ your semblance. It’s only a matter of time until your luck runs out. Especially now that you are dating Huntsman Branwen.”

“His name’s Qrow.”

_ “Huntsman Branwen,” _ Vine emphasizes.

Speak of the devil, there’s a text from Qrow now. Clover grins and taps on it. There’s a message, and a photo attachment. Clover reads the message first.

_ Scareqrow: kids thought i looked good and told me to text you a pic _

Huh. He opens the picture—and proceeds to walk face-first into the wall. His scroll falls from his fingers as he takes a step back, blinking painfully and rubbing his fingers.

And then his scroll hits the ground with a  _ crack. _

“What did I tell you,” Vine says only slightly smugly.

Clover glares at him and picks it up. “Unlike Elm, I happen to have kept this scroll for long enough that getting a replacement  _ won’t _ result in my pay being docked.”

“Well, no. What was it?”

Clover sighs. “Qrow.”

Vine smiles thinly and pulls out his own scroll. “Speaking of Elm, she owes me twenty lien.”

Clover’s long-suffering sigh becomes a groan. “This is why we’re not friends.”

* * *

“We can’t blame this one on Penny,” Clover guesses.

Qrow sighs, shakes his head, and closes the hood of the truck. “Nope. If I had to guess, this is a Murphy thing. Engine’s shot. Someone hasn’t been keeping the oil filled. I get that times are tough, but  _ come on _ , this is  _ routine maintenance. _ It’s not like it’s  _ hard _ .”

“Did not know you were a mechanic.”

Qrow laughs wryly, leans on his elbows on the now-closed hood. “With my semblance? It was kind of an essential skill to learn. At least this way, when Murphy breaks shit, I can generally fix it. Generally. This is not one of those times, and I’m going to have some serious words with whoever’s in charge of maintaining these things once we get back. Or possibly Jimmy. Probably Jimmy, that’ll get shit done faster.”

“Fair enough. So what are our options?”

“The battery powers the local comms system as well, and if it’s not dead already it will be with the engine dead. We’ve got a three-hour walk to Mantle before we’re enough in range to call someone.” Qrow pauses, frowns. “We need a name for your semblance, but I guess we can thank yours that we’re on the return trip and there’s no dust left back there.”

Clover flicks his pin absently. “Guess we can. We’d better start walking. When we don’t turn up on time, maybe they’ll send someone out looking for us.”

* * *

As a general rule, Clover prefers not to curse. He does have an image to maintain. But, if he was going to curse, he’d almost certainly be doing it in reference to fratterkies.

_ Particularly _ the red-beaked ones, because it’s not enough for murderous puffin lookalikes to fly at you and try to eat your face off,  _ oh no _ . The red-beaked ones have to  _ explode in your face _ . Which, admittedly, does generally hurt them more than it hurts you.

Exploding fratterkies, after all, kill themselves in their attempt to kill you. And, provided you have plenty of aura to spare, you can take the hit and keep fighting. If your aura is already low, and this isn’t the  _ first _ exploding fratterky to the face, well, you might be screwed.

In Clover’s case, his aura crackles and dies just in time for the blast to slam the back of his head into a wall. 

_ Lucky shot, _ he thinks before it all goes black and for a time, he’s not thinking of anything at all. 

He comes around slowly, not all at once. He’s on the ground, but his head’s propped up on someone’s chest, and there’s an arm wrapped around him too tightly, and someone’s yelling though he can’t quite make out the words. His head  _ hurts. _

“—I don’t give a  _ fuck _ what  _ you _ think is necessary, Clover’s aura is down and he’s knocked out from  _ a hit to the back of the head! _ I don’t need a goddamn fancy medical degree to know that means a concussion at  _ best _ , and he’s  _ not waking up! _ ”

Clover blinks a couple times, tries to force his mind to focus on the fuzzy greys and blacks and make  _ some _ sense out of them. He can sort of make out… that  _ might _ be Qrow, with his other hand pressed to his earpiece. Or it might be a glob of dark colors with the occasional pinprick of red.

“I’m fine,” Clover tries to say, which comes out more along the lines of  _ mmmmmffffn. _ Qrow’s head snaps down to look at him sharply.

“Clover!” His gaze softens. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” Clover admits. “What happened? Did we—”

“We did it. Mission’s over and done, the kids and Elm are clearing out the last of them and Nora’s trying to talk her into calling a team attack Thunder Thighs again. We’re on the dropship, and I’m in the middle of arguing with the stingy assholes that call themselves a medical team. Speaking of which…”

Qrow clears his throat and presses in the button on his earpiece again. “Correction, he just woke up and you are  _ going _ to make sure he’s alright. Are we fucking clear?”

“You’re supposed to say  _ over _ ,” Clover mumbles fondly.

“Fine.  _ Over. _ ” He takes away his hand from his earpiece, only to wrap it around Clover as well. “Cloves,  _ please _ don’t do that to me again. Let me know if you’re running low, I’ll watch your back if you watch mine. Alright?”

“Alright.” Clover grins despite himself. “Although my back does kind of hurt quite a bit at the moment.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Clover makes sure to keep his features completely neutral when he says, matter-of-factly, “The fratterkies.”

The  _ snort _ Qrow makes is worth it.

* * *

Clover had thought that maybe,  _ maybe _ sending three qualified hunters to deal with Callows might be overkill. But now, now that they’re all in the thick of things Clover is rapidly realizing that sending three qualified hunters might have been  _ underkill. _

It’s saying a lot about how skilled Callows unfortunately is that, from the moment the fight starts, Clover really  _ can’t _ stop to think. All he can do is hope his strikes hit true, because between the three of them and Callows, they seem almost evenly matched. But that’s at first.

Clover manages to hook Callows’ tail, pulling him back from Qrow, and something shifts. Callows looks,  _ really _ looks at him for the first time. His eyes take on a dangerous pink gleam, and he charges the wrong way. Away from Robyn. Away from Qrow.

At  _ Clover. _

He remembers, almost too late, what Callows’ semblance is. He manages to dodge backwards, out of the way of a frenzied swing coming  _ far _ too close to his face, and blocks the second with Kingfisher. He shoves Callows back. Qrow leaps in, moves to cut Callows clean in half with Harbinger.

...or he would have, if Callows hadn’t bent backwards so far that his back should have broken and consequently made it under the swing. He rolls back to his feet, Robyn shoots a crossbow bolt at him, and he catches it in his mouth. Again.

The bolt makes a dangerous click, and that’s all the warning Callows gets before it blows up in his mouth. Callows stands there, seemingly held up by an invisible force, and then he falls backward and hits the pavement with a painful crack.

“Where’s that smile now?” Robyn taunts, putting a foot on his chest. “Hey, Clover. Bolas? Unless you need them for something else, in which case I really  _ really _ don’t want to know.”

“Very funny.” He pulls out a couple sets of gravity bolas and tosses them to her. “Restrain his tail, too. I  _ don’t _ like the looks of that.”

“If it’s anything like his original, it can poison you,” Qrow says heavily. “Thought Ruby put an end to that.”

He turns, and Clover raises an eyebrow as he puts two and two together. “Ruby cut off his tail?”

“You’re bleeding.”

Qrow mimes a slash across his nose. Clover puts a hand there, and it comes away bloody.

“I think my aura can handle that much. I’d say I got lucky.”

“Or he got  _ un _ lucky.”

“Or both.” Clover winks. “You never know.”

“Ladies, ladies, you’re both pretty,” Robyn deadpans. “Now come on. I want to get this fucker where he belongs.”

* * *

The night was going so well, too. One moment, the team is well on their way to deposit Callows in prison where he belongs. The next, both Robyn and Qrow are looking at him like  _ he’s _ the enemy, and there’s a warrant for Qrow’s arrest. One that Robyn would have gotten too, due to her new status as a pseudo-Ace Op.

God. Why is this happening? Ironwood wouldn’t order Qrow’s arrest without a good reason,  _ or _ those of any of the kids. And yet the entirety of Teams RWBY and JNPR are on there, as well as one Huntsman Qrow Branwen.

“There’s a warrant out for your arrest, Qrow,” Clover says heavily, and unnecessarily. “There’s not one out for yours, Robyn.”

“A free ride and a show!” Callows cackles gleefully, claps his hands as best he can with them  _ very _ carefully restrained. He’d have to break them to get them out, and even he’s not that crazy, so there is that.

“Shut the  _ fuck _ up,” Qrow tells him. “Cloves. You don’t have to do this.”

“I do,” Clover replies. “But not yet. We  _ need _ to get Callows secured first.”

“And after that?” Robyn stands, shakes her head. “You heard Ironwood. Or Iron _ wouldn’t. _ Wouldn’t give a damn about anyone but himself. You heard the pipsqueak, she got  _ cut off! _ Anything could be happening to her.”

Qrow visibly winces, and Clover’s heart sinks further into the pit that’s his chest. He doesn’t want to arrest Qrow. But Ironwood… must have a  _ reason _ for declaring martial law. 

“We’re in an airship with a serial killer, Robyn,” Clover points out. “I don’t want to fight either of you.”

“But you’ll happily arrest your own boyfriend. Is that it?”

“How about,” Qrow says flatly, “you let me speak for myself.”

“Sure! Just, give me a moment.” Robyn activates her semblance, extends a hand. “I’d really like to  _ not _ be arrested the moment we deposit this fucker in prison, thanks.”

“You’re not going to be arrested, and Qrow, you can… we both know you can’t exactly be kept in prison for long.” 

Qrow raises an eyebrow at that one, before seemingly understanding. Robyn narrows her eyes in clear skepticism. 

“I’ll say that again with your semblance if you want me to,” he continues for good measure, and reaches out for Robyn’s hand. But before Clover can take it, the plane lurches with sudden turbulence.

Clover realizes, around the same time everyone else does, that they’ve been too focused on each other and  _ not _ on the  _ literal serial killer _ , who took advantage of their distraction to leap for the cockpit— _ why didn’t they come in a prison transport? _ — and attack the pilot.

“About  _ time _ your lovers quarrel came to an end!” Tyrian shouts, jerking the plane down. It’ll crash on the tundra below.

Clover does the only thing he can: he opens the door and leaps out.

* * *

“We don’t have to do this,” Clover says, almost too quietly. But Kingfisher is already in his hand, and Harbinger is already in Qrow’s.

“We don’t,” Qrow agrees. “But considering that my kids would  _ never _ do something warranting arrest  _ in the middle of an evacuation _ , and James has  _ clearly _ lost it, it looks like you’re going to have to choose. Do the kids  _ really _ mean nothing to you? Do  _ I _ mean nothing to you?”

“Stop making this sound simple when it’s not.”

“James is  _ making the wrong choice, _ Cloves. Based on what you and I know, which is  _ exactly the same _ , that’s  _ damn fucking obvious. _ Unless you know something I don’t?”

He asks it as a question, but it’s clear in the way he’s standing, the way he’s holding Harbinger, it’s meant as a challenge.

“I’ve known the General for far longer than you have,” Clover says. “He wouldn’t make a decision like this unless he truly believed there was no other choice. If he truly believed that it was lose everything, or lose Mantle. And sometimes… sometimes you do need to make sacrifices for the greater good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you  _ do _ sometimes. Sometimes, you meet someone who you think is too good to be true. But then it turns out, when it comes down to the wire, he’ll choose his  _ boss _ over you,  _ and _ over doing the right thing.”

“Do you know what the right thing is?”

“No. But it sure isn’t this.” Qrow sighs, sheathes Harbinger, and meets Clover’s gaze. Red eyes meet teal. “Goodbye, Clover.”

He lets himself fall backwards, but he never hits the snow. In an instant, he’s a bird, winging upwards faster and faster. Clover might be able to catch him still with Kingfisher, drag him back down and try to talk some sense into him. He raises Kingfisher—

And lowers it. He doesn’t even try.

“Goodbye, Qrow,” he whispers to the wind. The biting chill of it’s kind enough to wipe the tears from his eyes before he can cry them. He lowers his head. Takes one shaky breath, and then another. Then, he turns.

It’s nothing but sheer dumb luck that he turns when he does, and that Kingfisher is positioned just perfectly to catch Callows’ blades before they can reach their intended target. In a better time, Clover would thank his semblance.

In this one, Clover shoves him back and narrows his eyes. “Callows.”

He thinks something grazed his shoulder, but he was lucky. Whatever it was, it  _ only _ grazed him. His arm is stinging painfully, but that’s what happens when you get snow in an open wound, it’s nothing to be worried about.

“Aww, looks like your little birdie has flown the coop, and left you behind. All alone!” Callows says in a sing-song voice. His eyes narrow, and his already manic grin widens further. “All alone to  _ die. _ ”

So much for the restraints being sufficient. Clover glares at him, and says nothing. He waits for Callows to make a move. Callows circles him in a manner that, for anyone else, he’d describe as wary.

The next move isn’t made by Callows. It isn’t made by Clover either. It comes when, from the direction of the plane crash,  _ something _ shoots and hits Callows in the neck.

Callows looks at the wreck. Looks at Clover. Begins to laugh—and falls over. Clover finally looks, only to see… 

“Robyn,” Clover says, relieved. “Thanks. Why didn’t you do that earlier?”

“Because Callows had aura to  _ block _ a tranquilizer bolt earlier,” Robyn says. She points her crossbow at him now. “Where’s Qrow?”

“He’s gone.”

Her eyes go wide, and Clover quickly corrects, “I mean. He  _ left _ . He’s not…” 

“Right. Of course. So are you going to arrest me too?”

Clover closes his eyes and makes a choice. “No. But there’s a ship coming to take Callows to prison, and me back to Atlas. They will.”

For a time, too long of a time, Robyn stares him down. Then she lowers Hillfire, and reverts it to its inactive state.

“When Ironwood decides you’re no longer useful to him too,” Robyn says, “I’ll be in Mantle.”

She leaves, and Clover watches her go. By the time the ship gets there, she’s long gone, and Callows is starting to come to. This time, Clover made sure to restrain him  _ much _ more thoroughly, to the point where the pilot of the new ship raises an eyebrow.

“He crashed the last ship,” Clover says in way of explanation. “Do  _ you _ want to end up like this?” He sweeps an arm around, gesturing to their surroundings.

“No sir,” the pilot says. He looks at his arm, and frowns. “You should get that looked at.”

Right, he got grazed. Clover smiles and shakes his head. “It’s nothing, my aura will take care of it, and there’s people who will need those medical supplies much more than I do.”

He doesn’t see the look in Callows’ eyes as he drags him in the ship. The next few days pass in a sort of haze, to be completely honest—Clover couldn’t tell you exactly what happens.

Although part of that’s probably due to, at some point late at night, collapsing in front of his own room.

* * *

Salem’s not beaten. Not by a long shot. Maybe she never will be. But they beat her back. They beat her back from completely destroying Atlas  _ and _ Mantle, and that’s damn more than  _ Oz _ could do.

…okay. No thinking about Oz right now, because thinking about Oz means thinking about Oscar and being dead is arguably one of the better fates he could have met with.  _ Goddammit. _

They beat back Salem. But it came at a  _ heavy _ cost. They gained Penny and her father, but lost Oscar and… 

Right. No thinking about  _ him _ either, or Qrow  _ will _ start crying and that is  _ not _ something he wants to do as a bird. Gods. Fucking. Dammit.

Why couldn’t he have  _ done the right thing? _

Qrow keeps flying, focuses on the terrain around them. They’ve stopped at a military base on the edge of Solitas to refuel the plane, in the hope that word hasn’t come about them all being traitors to the glory of Atlas and all that yet. Or, barring that, Penny says the base was poorly staffed  _ before _ Salem’s invasion, so if push comes to shove it shouldn’t be too hard to fight their way through.

His job is scouting the area to make sure the kids (and Maria, and Pietro) don’t get surprised by anything… well, really, anything at all, but what he’s really keeping an eye out for is any airships. Then his job is to… well. Keep them busy.

At least the look on Pietro’s face when he turned into a bird was priceless. Penny, somehow, didn’t look surprised, and—

Movement catches his eye, and he dives. That’s definitely movement, and the glint of sunlight on metal, and a figure running through the tundra.

A figure running through the tundra towards the alpine woods, with a distinct metal scorpion tail.

_ Fuck. _

So much for keeping Tyrian where he belonged. Although, personally, Qrow doesn’t think Tyrian belongs in prison. He belongs in  _ hell _ . And at this point, there’s absolutely nothing keeping him from putting him there.

He shifts, and lets himself fall. He grabs Harbinger, extends it to sword form. A little help from gravity is all he needs to tackle Tyrian to the ground.

There’s a ravine close by. Tyrian falls down there, on the off chance he survives he’ll be washed downstream,  _ well _ away from his kids, and there’ll be plenty of time for them to take off and go to Vacuo.

They collide, and Tyrian goes  _ down _ . Unfortunately, his surprise lasts all of a second, and a second isn’t long enough for Qrow to finish him. Before Qrow can, he rolls to the side and his stinger comes flashing out.

Qrow dodges back, and extends Harbinger to scythe form. He glares at Tyrian in clear disdain.

“I’ll kill you before you reach my kids,” he threatens. 

“Oh, of course! Is that what you told dear, sweet Clover?”

And Qrow’s heart stops. Sensing weakness, or maybe because Tyrian’s just  _ like this _ , he presses on, drawing closer and closer. Despite himself, Qrow takes a step back.

“Clover made his choice. And I made mine.”

“Oh, but that’s not all there is, is there?” Tyrian clasps his hands under his chin in a move that might look innocent on  _ literally anyone else. _ “Maybe, if you’d been there, you could have saved him.”

No.  _ No. _ No, no, no no  _ no _ , Tyrian’s lying, he has to be lying. And even if he isn’t, Clover betrayed him. And the kids. He chose  _ Ironwood. _

Of course it’s now that his scroll buzzes in his pocket. The kids are done. The kids are done, which means he has to lose Tyrian… or kill him.

He’s going to kill him. Ravine. It’s not far, just a short ways into the trees, and nearly invisible except from directly above. Qrow has a distinct advantage in the air even  _ without _ taking his other form.

“You’re lying,” Qrow tells him. “And even if you aren’t,  _ I’ve _ got to go.”

Tyrian laughs, and laughs, and laughs. Holding his side, he shakes his head. “Oh,  _ no _ , I don’t think you’re going  _ anywhere. _ You’re dying first. And then, I’ll pick off them one by one by one. I wonder who’ll be next?”

“Fuck you,” Qrow says, and runs for the treeline. He makes it to the treeline. He  _ almost _ makes it to the ravine, and then it’s his turn to be tackled roughly to the ground by a deranged man with a new and improved scorpion tail poised at his throat.

“You know,” Tyrian says thoughtfully, “I don’t think I’ll kill you first. I’ll make you watch  _ them _ die. After all, Her Grace wishes for you all to die in only the most painful ways, and what could be more painful than that?”

“I’d like to see you try,” Qrow grunts. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

“Oh? But you see, I already have. A shame, really, that the General became so paranoid. It took so little for him to turn on you. All it took for poor, dear Clover was utterly failing to capture  _ anyone _ . And oh, how tragic, looks like the boy scout got a teensy-weensy bit grazed!”

Qrow’s eyes go to the stinger, then back to Tyrian.

“You’re lying,” Qrow repeats.

Tyrian raises an eyebrow and chuckles. “Am I?”

“You’ll see him soon if you aren’t.”

In an instant, Qrow’s gone bird and flown up and around. He turns back into himself. Grabs Tyrian around the middle. And, before he can do anything else, he hurls them both over the edge.

Penny finds him hanging there, Harbinger’s handle digging into the rock face, a few minutes later. He doesn’t meet her gaze. She doesn’t need to know he’s crying.

“What happened?” Penny asks. 

He doesn’t answer at first, so in typical Penny fashion she grabs him under the arms and hoists him up and out of the ravine. He sheathes Harbinger wordlessly, nods a silent thanks, and still doesn’t meet her eyes.

“Clover’s... dead,” Qrow tells her at last. “The good news is, so is Tyrian. Now. I… he won’t be fucking with any of you again.”

“He came after you,” Penny observes. She takes a seat next to him on the frozen ground, legs crossed and forlorn. “He could have been lying.”

“He could have been,” Qrow agrees. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? No matter what, I’m never seeing him again. And that’s for the best.”

“You’ll see him again someday.”

“And how do you know?”

“Because,” Penny says matter-of-factly, “we’ll find some way to stop Salem. And when we do, we’re going to come back to Atlas, and we’re going to find him. And first I’m going to break his legs, and then you can do whatever you want but hopefully make up. Okay?”

Qrow sighs. “Okay.” He stands up, offers Penny a hand though she doesn’t need it. She takes it, and hugs him. “Thanks, Rocket. I… guess I needed that. But what if he—”

“Nope.”

“What if Tyrian was—”

“Nope.”

“It’s a possibility.”

“It’s a very,  _ very _ low possibility. It’s possible, but not probable. It is  _ significantly _ more likely that Tyrian Callows was lying through his teeth to get to you.”

“I… guess I can’t argue with that. And I guess we’d better get back to the others.”

“Race you there, Uncle Qrow!"

In an instant, Penny’s quite literally taken off in the direction of the base, and the others, before Qrow can so much as shift. He grins fondly, and, leaping into the air, he spreads his own wings. Keeping up with literal rocket boosters will be a challenge, but it’s a challenge he’s more than willing to take on.

Clover’s  _ fine _ . Clover’s fine, and he  _ knows _ Marrow’s fine because Weiss was careful to knock him out, nothing more, and… maybe, just maybe, he can keep being optimistic. Clover would make sure Oscar was okay, even if he got arrested.

Optimism really,  _ really _ isn’t Qrow’s thing. But he’s got enough of it left over to keep from drinking again, and that’s got to count for something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we all know Tyrian's not gone for good. But it's okay, I need him for the Fair Game Beatdown later on. Because come on, it's not over yet, we've got two more days, _trust me._ AND NEITHER IS CLOVER, I CAN'T STRESS THIS ENOUGH.
> 
> Qrow is a certified mechanic, mainly because he got sick of his semblance giving him vehicle trouble. There's some things that can't be fixed easily, but a lot of things can.
> 
> I love Robyn. I do not love her canon characterization, and especially not her deciding to pick a fight... in an airship... with a serial killer... but I love her concept, and she's _really_ fun to write. So there's that.
> 
> Also, Penny's joining the Break Clover's Legs squad. On the off (read: _extremely_ likely) chance that Clover turns up to rejoin the group, his legs are going to be in serious peril, and for good reason.


	6. Clover Ebi, Nevermore Rider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six times Clover makes an impulsive decision that works out, more or less, and one time he makes an extremely questionable decision in an attempt to fix that one time he fucked up _bad_.
> 
> Day 6: Atlas Ball/Mantle Battle

Clover likes his parties like he likes his Grimm. Which is to say: dead, dying, or if not nonexistent in the first place, then  _ well _ away from him or anyone he cares about. In short, nothing about this situation redeems it in the slightest and he’s about two and a half uncomfortable conversations away from pretending to faint so he has an out.

He  _ did _ nearly die courtesy of one Tyrian Callows. He could probably pass it off as some lingering poison… or something. Probably a solid eighty percent of the people here wouldn’t know enough to call him out on his bullshit, and his semblance should help with the other twenty percent.

On the other hand, that would be leaving his team to suffer alone, and he’s not doing that. Elm is avoiding conversation by shoveling frankly concerning amounts of hors d'oeuvres down her throat. Vine is lurking near the food as well, probably to keep an eye on Elm and make sure she doesn’t choke. It’s Harriet’s turn to keep an eye on Marrow, although judging by the amount of time she’s spending checking her watch it’s almost Clover’s turn again.

Clover is almost certain that if he left, Harriet would sneak out as well, and the last thing he wants to do is leave Marrow alone with Atlesian high society. So he makes his way through the crowd, snagging a couple of deviled eggs from a tray on his way over and popping one in his mouth. The food, he could get used to. The company is another story.

“Captain Ebi!”

Internally, he screams. Externally, he pops the second deviled egg in his mouth and turns to face his doom, and  _ oh god no it’s May’s cousin. _ He really,  _ really _ would prefer the Happy Huntresses right around now. Unfortunately, they’re all fugitives from the law, as are other people he’s not going to think about right now because he has an image to maintain.

“Hello, Mr. Marigold,” he forces out. “I’m afraid I really don’t have time to talk right now, I need to—”

“Babysit that faunus of yours, yes, yes, of course,” Henry Marigold waves a hand dismissively and Clover’s opinion of him slides even further down the metaphorical drain.

“Marrow Amin is an invaluable member of the Ace Operatives. I would advise against continuing to imply what you’re currently implying.”

Translation: if he was in a room with Salem, Cinder Fall, Henry Marigold, a gun with two bullets, and zero repercussions, he would shoot Henry Marigold twice.

“Sure, whatever.” 

Henry shrugs carelessly. Clover glowers.

“I just wanted to know,” he continues, clearly not taking the hint, “is it true that Marrow was compromised by the renegade Team RWBY?”

“That, and any information relating to the hunters of Teams RWBY and JNPR,” Clover resists the urge to deck him, “is classified. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“And what of the…” Henry thinks a moment. “Happy…  _ Huntresses _ who, I would like to point out, still have not been captured and continue to spread harmful propaganda?”

More internal screaming. Clover thinks he understands the Happy Huntresses significantly better now, and while they may be enemies, he certainly would rather deal with them than  _ anything _ to do with Henry.

“The military’s top priority is not capturing the Happy  _ Huntresses,” _ Clover emphasizes, “at the current time. Beyond that, information is classified. However, if you have information that could lead to any of their arrests, including that of your cousin May, you are welcome to submit it through the proper channels.”

“The  _ proper channels _ don’t  _ accept _ information from me anymore.”

_ Really? I wonder why the fuck that is? Oh, wait, _ says a little voice in the back of Clover’s mind. It sounds just a little too much like Qrow. It’s almost funny because if he was here, and not a fugitive who is hopefully  _ well _ away from Atlas with all nine of his kids, he would certainly have a lot more to say than just that, and with a considerably greater amount of expletives.

“Have you considered that there might be a reason for that?” Clover says in a much milder tone of voice than he’s like to use. “Specifically, that while we may have a warrant out for her arrest, the Atlesian military respects May’s identity as it does that of all our citizens. Information infringing on that identity, such as that you and many of your relatives care to submit, is not helpful in our investigation and never will be. Excuse me.”

* * *

Finally,  _ finally, _ Clover goes to find Marrow. When he gets there, Harriet looks relieved and very tired. Admittedly, she always looks very tired these days, but still. 

“About time,” she says in a low voice. “What happened?”

“Henry Marigold,” Clover explains, and she makes a face. “You should probably steer clear of him.”

“You say that like we don’t already. See you in a couple hours, Cap.” 

With that, she claps him on the shoulder and goes off to go find either food, alcohol, the bathroom, or all three. Marrow, meanwhile, is sitting on a bench against a wall, looking positively miserable. Clover takes a seat next to him.

“Hey,” Clover says. “How are you doing?”

Marrow shrugs. “Okay. I guess.”

“You  _ really _ don’t sound okay. Is it just not liking parties in general, or something else?”

“Both.” Marrow looks at the floor. There’s a crack in the tile, and Marrow traces along it with his boot. “A lot of things. I know  _ perfectly _ well that most of Atlas thinks I was hired for my tail, not my skills, and they’re wrong. They’re  _ so _ wrong but it would be nice to avoid getting that for once.”

“They were the same way with my semblance, for a while,” Clover offers. “If that helps any. Eventually, they all forgot about it, but…”

Marrow sighs, and finishes, “I don’t think that’s an option for me. I’ll always just be the diversity hire, won’t I?”

“Maybe. But in the end, it doesn’t matter what civilians think. What matters is you, and your team. I wouldn’t want an Ace Ops without you.”

Marrow smiles slightly. “Thanks. That’s… not all, though.”

Clover raises an eyebrow, motions for him to continue. 

He does, eventually, but in a lowered voice, “We both know it wasn’t us who saved Atlas and Mantle. I—if anything, we tried to stop them.”

“We did,” Clover agrees. “I don’t like this either, but what choice do we have? Orders…  _ are _ orders. No matter what we did, it worked out in the end.”

Still staring at the ground, Marrow visibly droops. “I… it might have worked out in spite of us. Not because of us. If… that makes sense?”

Slowly, Clover nods. “You should keep that between us. But… you might be right.”

If it hadn’t been for those orders coming when they did, Callows would have been secured, and with Qrow’s expertise he would have been secured enough to  _ not _ escape in the chaos surrounding Salem’s attack. And Qrow would have still been here, and not god knows where. 

But Qrow also might have been in prison, and wherever he is, he’s fine. He’s  _ fine _ , he has to be.

“I miss Jaune,” Marrow mumbles. “And I miss U—I miss Qrow. I wish it hadn’t been like this.”

Clover laughs humorlessly. “We all do.”

“Maybe the people who knew them do. But I—people keep asking what about them, did we  _ know _ they were going to be traitors, and  _ of course we didn’t! _ They were just trying to do the right thing, same as us. We just… didn’t see eye to eye on what the right thing was.”

_ Do you know what the right thing is? _

_ No. But it sure isn’t this. _

“All we can do is keep going, make sure nothing like this happens again.” Clover glares out at the crowd and mutters, “But people who have no idea what they’re talking about don’t help.”

“Yeah. I’ve wanted to leave since the first five minutes.”

Clover nods in forlorn agreement. He racks his brain for some way they can get out of here early, until suddenly, it occurs to him. He could laugh from how obvious it is.

“I  _ am _ still recovering from apprehending Callows,” Clover points out. “It would certainly be a shame if I were to, say, collapse in the middle of this event. It would also undoubtedly result in at least one of the other Ace Ops having to accompany me to the infirmary.”

Even as he says, “But then you’d have to go to the infirmary,” Marrow perks up. “I could also go find the General, and tell him you’re not feeling well.”

“And he would order you to accompany me back to my quarters,” Clover finishes. “Marrow, you’re a genius.”

Marrow grins. As he stands, his tail’s wagging. “Stay here. Try to look queasy. I’ll go find the General.”

In a few minutes, Marrow’s returned with Ironwood, and Ironwood is looking concerned.

“Hello, sir,” Clover says. It isn’t hard to look as miserable as he feels, although it’s for an entirely different reason. “I’m really sorry about this.” 

He’s really not. Especially not when it gets both him and Marrow out of the situation a solid three hours earlier than expected.

* * *

“Hello, Winter,” Clover says. “How are you feeling?”

“Do you really want the answer to that question?” Winter asks in return.

“Want, no,” Clover admits. “But the General wants to know.”

Winter closes her eyes and sighs. “Of course. He couldn’t come this time, either.”

Couldn’t, or wouldn’t? Unfortunately, they both know the answer to that unspoken question far too well. Wordlessly, Clover shakes his head. 

“He blames himself for what happened. To you. To… the Winter Maiden—”

“Fria. Her name was Fria.”

“To Fria, then. To everyone.”

Winter opens her eyes. “Not everyone.”

It’s clear, by the dull stare she gives the wall behind him, just who she is thinking of. 

“No,” Clover agrees sadly. “Not everyone.”

Winter might be doing better than she had been, but the heavily bandaged woman propped up in her hospital bed with a pillow is still a far cry from the usual elegant confidence of Special Operative Schnee. The entire left side of her body is still wrapped up so much that Clover sincerely doubts she can move it, and so is her neck.

Her aura must be working double time, though, because the black eye she had the first time he’d seen her after Salem’s attack is gone. The thin cut across her nose, however, seems to have stayed.

“We found the other half of Hippeastrum,” Clover offers after a time. “I left it in your quarters for you, with the half you had. I’m not entirely sure how to operate the mechanism to put it back together, though.”

“I’ll deal with it once I get out of here,” Winter says flatly. “Do you know anything about how long that will be?”

The General had said not to tell her, that he would break it to her himself when he visited. But… 

“He hasn’t told you,” Clover realizes.

“He hasn’t visited.”

And, judging by the wary look she’s giving him, she’s not convinced he will at all. Neither is Clover. Orders are orders.

But… if he tells her now, Winter is  _ more _ than capable of feigning surprise if the General visits and tells her later. He’ll give her a choice. Even if he knows what her answer will be.

“We’re under orders to let him tell you. But if he isn’t going to...”

“Tell me.”

There it is. “Two months. Extensive burns coupled with several broken bones.”

“Broken bones should warrant a hospital stay of  _ one _ month, not two. Burns are less severe.”

Clover sighs. “I think that was why he didn’t want to tell you.”

“What’s the real reason?” Winter asks.

“I… don’t know. Not for sure.”

“You have an idea.”

“I have a theory.”

_ “Tell me. _ I still outrank you, Captain Ebi—” The look on his face gives her pause. “No. He wouldn’t.”

“Someone had to take the fall. Special Operative Polendina betrayed us, and the city of Mantle was already against her. Unfortunately, making her the scapegoat brought question into the General’s other right hand operative, who had…” Clover sighs. He doesn’t like this either. “...publically failed to stop the terrorist Cinder Fall, or the other individuals who had betrayed us to join her.”

“They didn’t— _ my sister _ wouldn’t join her, and  _ certainly _ wouldn’t join  _ Salem. _ ”

“I know that. You know that. The public sees no difference between her side and that of Cinder and Salem. As far as our kingdom is concerned…” Clover shakes his head. “There are two sides: those with us, and those against us. Your sister, her friends… they chose against.”

“So  _ I’m _ the scapegoat,” Winter concludes. “I won’t tell the General you told me. Thank you.”

Clover smiles thinly, and without anything remotely related to happiness in the motion. “I wouldn’t thank me.”

* * *

“So General Ironwood called us all here,” Clover observes as Elm and Vine walk up, last of the Ace Ops to do so. 

“Individually,” Harriet agrees.

“Yeah,” Marrow’s tail wags even as he keeps on an otherwise perfect poker face. “That was just a  _ bit _ of a shock to wake up to this morning. Not that it bothered me that much.”

“Marrow,” Elm says easily.

“Yeah? What? What is it, Elm?”

“Tail.”

Marrow wisely shuts up. Lucky timing, because it’s then that the General opens the door to his office. He looks around, sees them all there, and nods.

“Thank you all for coming so early,” Ironwood says with a smile. “Please, come in.”

He turns, and Clover follows him. So do the others. Marrow shuts the door behind them, and moves to stand between Clover and Harriet. They all look at the general expectantly.

“What are our orders, General?” Clover settles for saying, stepping forward as he does. Marrow’s on his left, then Harriet, Elm, and Vine. All five of the Ace Operatives are here. They may not be friends, but there's no one he'd rather have at his back.

With the desertion of Special Operative Polendina, and the demotion of Special Operative Schnee, the Ace Operatives now answer only to General Ironwood himself. It occurs to Clover, as he turns to face them, that Ironwood hasn’t shaved in some time now.

“The repairs of Mantle are well under way,” Ironwood says at last. “We have, it seems, been strangely fortunate in that both Atlas and Mantle survived Salem’s siege. However, Robyn Hill and the rest of her Happy Huntresses have continued to speak out against us,  _ despite _ knowing full well what we’re up against and what discord brings, and we have let them speak out long enough.”

Clover exchanges a glance with Marrow as Ironwood continues, “I’m pulling all of you from Mantle’s protection detail. Your top priority, from now on, will be ensuring the successful arrests of Robyn Hill, Joanna Greenleaf, May Marigold, and Fiona Thyme. Any questions?”

His gaze sweeps the room, and lingers on, of all people, Marrow. Marrow says nothing, but his tail starts to droop. Beyond that, he doesn’t move a muscle.

“If I may, General,” Clover offers, but pauses. When he gets a nod, he continues, “Mantle’s wall is not yet repaired, and it has been established that while we are working for Mantle’s benefit, the Huntresses will not interfere with our operations. Additionally, they continue to protect Mantle from Grimm, despite the personal risk to themselves. We should wait until Mantle’s wall is complete before tracking them down.”

Ironwood nods thoughtfully.

“That  _ would _ be a viable option, if Robyn in particular did not continue to speak out against us and, in particular, against me. I never thought I would see the day where I would be  _ glad _ Jacques Schnee won that election, and yet we’ve been strangely fortunate in that neither he nor Robyn sits on the council. I can only put off an interim election for so long, and when that election occurs, Robyn  _ will _ win it. If she can convince the rest of the Council to side with her, we will have a disaster on our hands the likes of which makes even  _ Salem _ pale in comparison. And I  _ refuse _ to let it come to that!”

He punctuates that last statement by slamming his hands down on the table hard enough to make Elm, Harriet, and Marrow start, although Clover suspects none of them would admit it. 

Harriet, in fact, takes a step forward and asks, “Understood, sir. How are we going about this?”

“I need each of you to swear to me that, whatever it takes, you will do it. I  _ do not _ want a repeat of what happened with  _ Team RWBY. _ ”

“Neither do we, General,” Vine agrees.

They all watch as Ironwood circles his desk to the front, and stands in front of Vine. “I need you all to swear this, on top of your oath to protect and serve the people of Atlas. Swear that you  _ will _ do whatever I deem necessary to all threats to the Kingdom of Atlas. Or leave, now.”

“I swear I will do whatever you deem necessary to all threats to the Kingdom of Atlas,” Vine repeats. His face betrays nothing of his emotions. He stares back at Ironwood with a carefully neutral look, the same look he has ninety percent of the time.

“Good.” Ironwood steps to the right, in front of Elm. “Do you?”

“I do,” Elm says, uncharacteristically serious. “I swear I will do whatever it takes, sir. Whatever you deem necessary, to all threats to the Kingdom of Atlas and its people.”

Harriet swears it, too. And then Ironwood comes to Marrow.

“I have… a question, first. Sir.” Marrow is stone-faced. “Do you still consider the hunters of Team RWBY and Team JNPR to be threats to the Kingdom of Atlas?”

“They betrayed us, didn’t they?” Ironwood claps Marrow on the shoulder in a gesture that’s likely supposed to be reassuring, but he almost imperceptibly shrinks away from it. “Yes. They are our next priority, after apprehending the Happy Huntresses.”

“Of course.” Marrow takes a deep breath. He suddenly looks much less composed. “What do you intend to do about them?”

“As Elm put it, whatever it takes. If only arresting them is necessary, then we can stop there. If not, we’ll keep going.”

“Until… what?”

“Execution. They will  _ not _ be a threat to my kingdom again.” Ironwood’s expression darkens. “If you’re not willing to go as far as is needed—”

“General,” Clover cuts in. He takes a step towards Marrow. “Is  _ arresting _ them necessary? The Happy Huntresses are here and now. If RWBY and JNPR return to Atlas, then obviously it would be. But I don’t think they willingly would.”

“In order to stop Salem the way they wish to, they will need the Staff of Creation, and they will have to return. I intend to stop them before it comes to that.” Ironwood’s gaze swings to Clover. “Will  _ you _ swear to me? Or will you let your misguided feelings for Huntsman Branwen cloud your judgment?”

“I do not let my emotions get in the way of my duty, and never have, General.”

His duty is to the people of Atlas.  _ All _ of them, those in Mantle included. Going out of their way to arrest Qrow and his kids will not help protect anyone—it’s out of, and Clover can’t believe he didn’t realize this sooner, spite.

He doesn’t know what to do. What he does know is that, despite what the General says: he won’t be letting anyone leave. Disagreement may very well equate betrayal.

“Good. Will you swear?”

_ Do you know what the right thing is? _

_ No. But it sure isn’t this. _

Qrow was right. He didn’t betray Clover, Clover betrayed  _ him _ . He was  _ right _ about Ironwood, and that scares him so, so much. And, from the looks of things, Marrow is just as uncomfortable with this as he is.

If he’s lucky, he might be able to get both of them out of this. And then… first things first, this situation first. Clover takes a deep breath. Blinks hard. Comes to terms with what he’s about to do, and smiles disarmingly.

“No,” Clover says, and decks Ironwood in the face.

That may have actually been the absolute last thing anyone was expecting to happen. Ironwood goes  _ down, _ and  _ he actually is doing this,  _ he just committed treason. He actually did this. No going back now. 

“Marrow,” Clover says tersely.

“I’m with you,” Marrow replies. 

He retreats to behind Clover, between Clover and the window, as Ironwood slowly stands again. Clover takes a step back, then another. He sticks an arm out protectively in front of Marrow.

“Don’t talk to me or my son ever again,” Clover tells Ironwood and his t—his  _ former _ team. 

On that lovely note, he turns, pulls out Kingfisher, and breaks the glass with a  _ crash. _ He shoves Marrow out the window, and jumps.

He twists in midair, and— _ BANG! _

Pain explodes as his aura goes down in a single shot. The last thing Clover sees is someone holding the literal smoking gun. It’s not the General, although it is his gun.

It’s  _ Harriet. _

* * *

“Man, and I thought  _ I _ was a reckless idiot,” says a voice Clover thought he’d never hear again. 

His eyes fly open to see three faces staring down at him, all barely adults. A dark-skinned girl with black hair, white at the tips, black eyes, and a dark beak. A sandy-haired, freckle-faced boy with a rainbow scarf and pink eyes, and another with dust-colored skin and rust-colored hair and a wide-brimmed hat.

They’re all grinning, in Eira’s case as much as she can with her beak complicating things. They’re all here.

“Eira,” Clover greets, and the girl’s eyes light up. “Dunn. Roy. What are you—you’re dead.”

“Clove,  _ c’mon _ . Don’t fucking remind me,” says the boy with the rainbow scarf. He offers Clover a hand up from where he’s lying. Clover takes Roy’s hand and stands, if shakily.

“So am I dead?”

“Nah, you got lucky,” Dunn says lightly. He puts a hand on Clover’s shoulder to steady him. “Don’t act so surprised, that shot only broke your aura. Knocked you out, which  _ would _ be a problem if you were still in free-fall.”

Clover’s eyes go wide, and Roy hastily adds, “Your son’s got this. Cool kid. Grabbed your weapon, grabbed you, and executed a landing strategy the likes of which would make any decent hunter proud.”

“He’s not—” Clover tries, only to earn  _ the _ most judgmental look from Eira.

“You yelled  _ don’t talk to me or my son ever again _ and jumped out the window of Ironwood’s office. Which, by the way,” she punches him in the shoulder. “ _ About fucking time you dumbass. _ ”

“So I’m not dead.”

“Yep.”

“But you all… I’m sorry.”

“Oh my fucking gods, he can’t take what he dishes out, can he?” Roy asks Dunn, who shakes his head in mock sadness. “Listen up, you fucker. We made our choice. Out of all of us, you were the most likely to be able to get out of there alive, and you  _ did _ . Team CEDR lives on! Somewhat.”

“That is the shittiest choice of words I have heard in my… death? Life? Whatever. Both of those.” Dunn rolls his eyes. “Point is, we were going to make a point, y’all, come on.”

“And this is why  _ you _ were my partner, and they were each other’s,” Eira says in a huff. “I’ll keep it quick, because we do kind of need to send you back soon or you will actually die and that would suck ass. Glad you finally stopped being a goddamn bootlicker, about fucking time. That Qrow guy? If you don’t go find him and apologize, I  _ will _ find some way to come crawling back just to kick you in the nuts. And you can help him save the world too, that would be cool.”

“How do you guys…” Clover frowns. “Know? Anything about… what happened? I thought you were gone?”

“Please,” Dunn says. “We never left. You just weren’t in the right place to be listening to us.”

On that delightful note, Roy slaps him, and suddenly he’s on the ground again, blinking hard. Except this time it’s Marrow looking down at him, and oh god he’s been crying.

“That could have worked out better,” Clover admits with a wry laugh, and suddenly Marrow looks like he wants to punch him.

“You can say that again,” Marrow says tersely. “We’re fugitives from the goddamn law now. We betrayed—we did exactly what we swore to never do.”

“No, we didn’t. We were huntsmen first. And we swore to protect the people.  _ All _ the people.” Clover cracks a wry smile. “I don’t regret it.”

“Me either.” Marrow helps him up before saying, “But now… we’re going to have to fight the others. Harriet  _ shot you _ . Elm and Vine looked shocked, but… neither of them were exactly lining up to join us, were they?”

“No, they weren’t. I… think my aura’s still down.”

“That shot would have killed you without aura,  _ no fucking shit. _ ” Marrow takes a deep breath. “We need to go. We need to hide. I don’t know  _ where _ , but there’s plenty of abandoned homes in the outer districts of Mantle after… you know.”

“Yeah. I can walk on my own.”

“Right.” Clover sways a little unsteadily when Marrow lets him go, but stays on his feet. “What you said… did you… mean it?”

“Yeah,” Clover agrees. “I did. Although the wording could have been a bit less…” He waves a hand helplessly.

“The wording,” Marrow corrects, “was perfect. In that case…”

He looks at Clover, smiles. His tail starts to wag. He continues, grinning, “Thanks, Dad.”

Clover is  _ pretty sure _ that’s when his heart decides to leave his body. He grins back. And, suddenly, there’s a hand on both of their shoulders.

“There’s a patrol of AKs looking for you two just down the road, and they’re coming this way,” hisses a voice in Clover’s ear. “I don’t know  _ what _ you did to piss Ironwood off, but from what I’ve heard from Robyn, it really doesn’t take much these days. My semblance is active, so they won’t see you for a while if you decide to run, but there’s a lot more than just them.”

Clover recognizes the voice. He turns as she backs up, and his hunch is confirmed. Standing there is none other than Huntress May Marigold, hands on her hips and an unreadable expression on her face.

“So, I guess what I’m saying,” May continues, “is come with me if you want to live.”

She extends a hand, just in time for Marrow to groan, “Is  _ everyone _ making bad references at dramatic moments now?”

“Mine happened to be great,” May says cheerfully. “Can’t speak for whatever Captain Plant did, but clock’s a-ticking. You coming?”

They should be fine on their own. They should be able to hide, and fight when they can’t. But Clover’s aura has barely begun to come back, and… he wants to be able to trust somebody.

Your enemy’s enemy is your friend. The military just became their enemy, and they were already May’s enemy, and Robyn’s, and Joanna’s and Fiona’s.

“Yes,” Clover tells her. “We’re coming.”

* * *

The first surprise is when all four of the Huntresses, Robyn included, treat both Clover and Marrow as friends. Maybe that’s not such a surprise, considering how May had been the most friendly she’s been since Team RMJT graduated when she found them.

It might not be a surprise, but it’s definitely nice when Robyn sees them, laughs, and welcomes them inside saying, “About fucking time.”

“You say that like you knew we would defect,” Marrow says suspiciously.

“Chill out, Wags, it was that or he’d kill you. Coffee? You both look dead on your feet.” Coffee distributed, Robyn continues, “Since you’re here, obviously he didn’t kill you.”

“He didn’t get the chance,” Marrow mumbles into his coffee. Clover rubs his back.

“So,” Joanna pops in, “you  _ are _ going to go find your boyfriend and his kids, aren’t you?”

Clover opens his mouth and shuts it before he can ask how she knew. Robyn figured it out within about four minutes, and it makes perfect sense that she’d share it with her girlfriends. Doesn’t keep him from being slightly annoyed about it.

“Ex-boyfriend,” Clover says quietly. “If trying to arrest him didn’t end things, him turning into a bird and literally flying away did.”

“Qrow,” May says suspiciously, “can turn into a bird. I thought his semblance was like yours?”

“It is. The bird thing is magic.” Despite himself, Clover smiles. “He flew into my window once.  _ Before _ I knew he could turn into a bird.”

“There’s definitely a story there,” Robyn says. “But it’s going to have to wait. Hey, Fi, what’s taking so long?”

“Had to wake the kid up,” Fiona yells back, right before rounding the corner with someone thrown over her shoulder. Someone who she promptly dumps on the floor in front of them, clad in mostly green, and… 

“Clover?” Oscar asks, eyes growing wide.

“Oscar?” Clover asks in turn, unnecessarily. In moments, he’s rushed up to him and started hugging his arm, and oh god he’s crying too. Clover rubs his back, and tries not to show just how relieved he is to see he’s alright. “What are you doing here? I thought you left with Qrow.”

“I tried to talk to Ironwood. Didn’t… it  _ maybe _ didn’t… g-go so well.” Oscar sniffles, wipes his eyes.

Fiona takes the opportunity to say, “Ironwood shot him off the side of Atlas.”

Clover chokes on his coffee. “He did  _ what.” _

“Green bean here went to go try and talk to him, talk him out of f…reaking  _ martial law,” _ Robyn elaborates. “Ironwood thought he was Ozpin and shot him off Atlas.”

Marrow whistles lowly. “Now I wish I’d been the one to punch him.”

All eyes go to him before Robyn gets it, and her gaze shifts to Clover. “You.  _ Punched Ironwood?” _

“We needed a distraction to escape,” Clover says matter-of-factly. “I provided the distraction. Speaking of which… I hate to do this to you. But we need to catch up with Qrow and the rest of the kids.”

“Vacuo,” Oscar supplies immediately. “That’s where they are.”

“Getting there without an airship will be nearly impossible,” Joanna adds. “And getting an airship  _ is _ impossible. So, unless you have some other way to fly to Sanus…”

Clover doesn’t… except, suddenly, he recalls a story Ruby and Weiss had mentioned. Their first mission at Beacon, and how  _ they’d _ traveled a long distance very, very quickly.

“We might,” Clover says. “But Nevermores aren’t active at night.”

_ “Nevermores?” _ May all but squawks.

“Well, one singular one most likely,” Clover corrects. “Or any flying Grimm that’s big enough to carry me at least, and… Marrow, Oscar, if you want to stay here, I won’t blame you.”

Robyn snorts. “Please. We can handle Ironwood. Take your kids and go. Unless you need help capturing a Nevermore, of course.”

“Robyn, no,” Fiona says immediately.

“Robyn,  _ yes. _ All in favor?”

Joanna’s hand goes up. Fiona’s hand stays down. May looks between Robyn and Joanna on one side, and Fiona on the other, and shrugs.

“Sounds like fun,” May says. “Also sounds like the kind of thing you don’t want to be low on sleep on. You all have ten minutes to get your shit together and get to sleep or I  _ will _ borrow Robyn’s tranquilizer bolts and knock every one of you out.”

* * *

“I can’t believe this actually worked,” Fiona says, staring up at the Nevermore.

“Neither can I,” Marrow says through gritted teeth. He doesn’t dare to move a muscle.

“We’d better head out,” Clover supplies for him. “Thanks for everything.”

Robyn gives him a mock-salute. “Once you’ve dealt with Salem, you’d  _ better _ come back and help us deal with Ironwood, or so help me—”

“I’ll break his legs if he forgets,” Oscar says cheerfully. He climbs up onto the Nevermore’s back alone, Clover behind him. “Marrow?”

Marrow moves slowly, not breaking his focus, and not daring to stop pointing. Clover and Oscar pull him up, and eventually he’s seated behind them, still holding the Nevermore down with his semblance. Clover, for his part, throws Kingfisher’s line down to May. May loops it under the Nevermore’s head, passes it to Fiona, who passes it to Joanna, who passes it to Robyn, who throws the hook back up to Clover. In a quick motion, he ties the hook to the rest of the line.

He’ll be able to undo it once they need to. In the meantime, they may have just made the world’s first Nevermore Harness. Hopefully it’ll be functional, because the next nearest Nevermore could be miles away.

“We’re good,” Clover tells Marrow. “Both of you, hold on tight.”

And they fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only reason I didn't write out the Nevermore "fight" was, unfortunately, time. It's 1 in the morning and I'm about to fall asleep at my keyboard. I promise it probably involved baiting the Nevermore into diving low and then Marrow's semblance.
> 
> I meant to have Clover reunite with Qrow this chapter, uh, sorry, that'll be happening tomorrow I guess. Along with *checks list* a lot of other stuff. I'm not sleeping tomorrow night either, am I......... it's fine lol. This is fine.
> 
> Hey look it's Team CEDR! They're all unreasonably fun to write so they'll be returning in my other fics, just not as Clover's teammates and more importantly not _dead_. There's Eira Bourne, Roy G. Biv, and Dunn who I didn't actually come up with a last name for, they'll show up again in other fic 'verses. Particularly Eira.
> 
> Night, love y'all, please leave me comments if you liked it <3


	7. The Fine Art of Fixing Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six times Clover tries to change things for the better, and one time Qrow tries something of his own.
> 
> Day 7: AU/Free Day

Crashing a Nevermore into the sand wastes outside Shade Academy is certainly one hell of a way to make an entrance. It also raises some serious questions about who, exactly, is desperate and insane enough to  _ do that. _

“I mean,” Ruby offers helpfully, “Weissy and I weren’t desperate  _ or _ insane when we caught a ride on one. Just impatient.”

“Desperate, no,” Weiss agrees. “Insane,  _ absolutely, _ me for listening to you and you for coming up with the plan in the first place!”

“And impatient.”

“Obviously!”

“Both of you, quiet,” Qrow tells them. “I have a bad feeling about this. Get Theo. I’ll take a closer look.”

He doesn’t wait for either of them to head off before shifting. Arms become wings become feathers. In an instant, he flies up, soaring above Shade’s walls and into the nighttime desert sands. Ruby and Weiss are dots of red and white left behind, dots of white and red that soon retreat to the inner part of Shade.

After what happened with Haven and Atlas, Theo was a breath of fresh air. A…  _ very hostile _ breath of fresh air, at first, but considering the  _ last _ two headmasters were originally welcoming and turned on them, Qrow would much prefer that order to be switched.

He’s working on getting through to Theo. It’s a work in progress. Plus side, Theo evidently likes this team called SSSN, and his kids apparently know this team called SSSN, as well as a graduated group that stuck together in the next town over called Team CFVY. Transferred from Beacon or something, who knows. But they might be getting through.

And honestly? Theo constantly threatening to evict them all from Shade if they bring up Salem one more time, so help him gods, is  _ really _ a nice change of pace. He always did like Theo, which is why whoever came in  _ riding a Nevermore like the fucking insane people they are _ , he’s going to intercept them before they can fuck up Shade.

There was definitely at least one person on that Nevermore’s back, and Ruby swore she saw at least two. So he’s not coming to fight. He’s coming to see what’s up, and it’s with that in mind that he wings lower to get a better view of what’s going on.

The Nevermore’s long gone at this point, dissipated into dust. There’s  _ three _ figures standing in a circle, and although he’s too high up to tell for sure… that looks suspiciously like an Ace Ops uniform.

Qrow nearly falls out of the sky in shock when he recognizes him. Clover made his choice. Clover made his choice, so why is he here? Good news, he’s not dead, Tyrian  _ was _ lying through his fucking teeth! Bad news, he’s here and that looks like Marrow with him, which means General Fucking Ironwood just couldn’t leave well enough alone and focus on his  _ own _ problems.

And that means he’s going to actually have to fight Clover this time. Oh gods. Gods fucking  _ dammit _ he doesn’t want to do that. There’s someone else there, someone in darker colors that almost look—

Green. Oh  _ gods _ he knows who wears green. Wore green. Wears green, he’s not  _ dead _ holy fucking shit, and it’s probably a trap but  _ gods _ he wants it to be true.

Qrow dives behind a nearby sand dune, shifting in midair and rolling to his feet. He reaches for Harbinger, then stops. He’s not taking on Clover and Marrow at the same time, not with Oscar in the way. If he needs to, he can flee quickly, and it’s not like Clover isn’t well aware of his second form.

Except Clover’s well aware of his second form, and he might threaten Oscar to keep him from fleeing. He knows damn well how much the kid means to him. He wouldn’t, except Qrow thought he would be able to see what Ironwood was doing and he didn’t.

Hands shaking, Qrow pulls out his scroll and taps out a message to Ruby. 

_ Me: atlas  _

_ Me: if I dont come back in fifteen minutes you have my full permission to ambush them and break his legs. _

The reply comes almost immediately.

_ Rosebud: clover? _

_ Me: and marrow but they have oscar _

_ Rosebud: uncle qrow do NOT do anything stupid _

_ Me: cant promise that kiddo _

_ Me: which is why im warning you now _

_ Rosebud: if he hurts you again his legs wont be the only things getting broken _

_ Me: got it _

_ Me: love you _

That done, Qrow takes a deep breath. He moves to slip his scroll back into his pocket, then thinks better of it, and sets it down on the sand.

Hell to find later? Probably, but scrolls are shiny and he’s good at finding shiny things. It’s worth having to get a new one if it means keeping the kids safe. And he’s been betrayed too many times to naively think that maybe, just maybe, Clover finally  _ did _ see Ironwood for what he’s become.

That aside, he takes a deep breath, and walks over the dune.

“Clover,” he greets, and all eyes go to him. “Marrow. Oscar.  _ What _ are you doing here.”

Clover opens his mouth, then averts his gaze and shuts it again. Marrow and Oscar exchange glances. Qrow gets the distinct feeling he’s missing something here.

“They defected,” Oscar says at last. “Which is why we couldn’t take an airship like normal people.”

“Did you.” He shifts his gaze to Oscar and says, carefully, “What happened, pipsqueak? We had no idea what happened to you.”

“I tried to go talk to Ironwood.”

Qrow visibly winces. “So what. He put a fucking  _ kid _ in  _ prison? _ And  _ you two let him???” _

“We thought he was with you,” Clover says, “so no.”

“He sort of… shot me down?” Oscar grins nervously. “It was fine, the Huntresses found me and I have some cool new aunts now. But he did… sort of… shoot me off a cliff. With no aura. Yeah. It’s fine.”

“You had  _ no aura?” _ Marrow exclaims. “How the  _ fuck _ are you alive?”

“Magic. It’s fine.”

“That really  _ does not _ sound fine,” Clover says, narrowing his eyes. “It wasn’t fine already, but… well. More reasons to regret not leaving sooner.”

“No fucking shit,” Qrow agrees. “How do  _ I _ know this isn’t a stunt to make us trust you again when you’re still working for Jimmy?”

“He did punch Ironwood,” Marrow says, and Qrow’s pretty sure his soul leaves his body. “And then Harriet shot him after he grabbed me and jumped out the window. So. If this is some kind of trick, this is the first I’m hearing of it.”

“You did  _ what?” _

“Punched my superior officer, told him  _ don’t talk to me or my son ever again, _ grabbed Marrow, jumped out the window,” Clover sighs, “and promptly got shot by Harriet.”

“What the fuck, Cloves, can you do  _ anything _ without showing off?”

“...I didn’t do a backflip?”

“Okay.” Qrow sighs, takes a deep breath. “Okay. So what you’re saying is that you deserted the fucking military and took Marrow with you, apparently met up with Robyn and picked up Oscar, and somehow the lot of you decided  _ ah yes, let’s ride an ENTIRE NEVERMORE TO VACUO.” _

“That sounds about right.”

“And you got fucking  _ shot _ because of fucking  _ course _ you would, are you—”

“I’m fine!”

“Now,” Marrow adds unhelpfully. “Broke his aura and knocked him out for a couple hours. Otherwise fine.”

Faced with this overwhelming  _ bullshit _ , Qrow runs a hand over his hair and sighs. “I’m starting to think you couldn’t make this shit up if you tried.”

“Yeah, probably not,” Clover agrees. He tries to smile, and fails. His face falls. “Look, I… I’m sorry. I should have trusted you. You were right about the G—about Ironwood, and I should have trusted your judgment.”

“It looks like you figured it out eventually,” Qrow points out. “That, or this is a  _ really _ long con.”

“It’s not. I promise. I understand if you can’t trust me again, I’m not sure if I could. But I’d just… like to fight alongside you again, if you’d have me.”

“You really think I can’t trust you again.”

Clover nods, slowly. “I’d like to think I could, if our positions were swapped. But I don’t know. And it’s unfair to ask something of you that I couldn’t do.”

“Well, I think that’s a shame,” Qrow says. The  _ look _ Clover gives him tells him that he  _ knows _ , so he just grins and keeps going. “Please. You’re telling me  _ you _ wouldn’t forgive  _ me _ , if it turned out we were wrong and Ironwood was right? If I know you at all—and I’d like to think I do—you would in a heartbeat. Besides. You came back.”

“I’m thinking maybe we should get going to Shade,” Marrow says quietly, from off to the side. “I feel like I’m interrupting.”

Oscar nods an agreement, and the two of them walk off in the direction Qrow came from. Qrow, meanwhile, has eyes only for Clover.

“My sister, Raven,” Qrow continues. “She abandoned me, abandoned Summer and Tai, abandoned her own daughter Yang. Then she  _ did _ come back, only to take Salem’s side in a fight she said she wanted no part in. So yeah. I’d have a damn hard time forgiving her if she tried to make amends. But on the off chance she meant it? I’d try.

“I’m not saying that I’ll forgive you immediately. I’m not saying that things’ll get back to the way they were quickly, and maybe they won’t. But I’m willing to try again.”

Qrow’s grin becomes shit-eating as he says, “So hey. Don’t beat yourself up about it. You’re here now, and I’m glad to have you. Lucky you, huh?”

He winks for good measure. Looks up to see Clover’s reaction, and oh gods there’s tears streaming down his face. But he’s smiling. But he’s crying.  _ But he’s smiling. _

“I missed you,” Clover chokes out.

It’s all the opening Qrow needs to take the couple steps forward and pull him into a hug.

...of course, a few minutes later he remembers what he told Ruby and starts to panic, but for the moment it’s just him and Clover, and  _ gods _ he missed him too.

* * *

“Oscar,” Clover says quietly, and the poor kid nearly jumps out of his skin. 

“It’s fine,” is his immediate answer.

Clover sighs, takes a seat on the couch next to him. Shade Academy might be  _ considerably _ less formal than Atlas, but he’s warming up to it. Literally, in one notable case, because even in winter Vacuo is hotter than Atlas ever will be.

“It’s clearly not fine, and you can’t keep deflecting forever.”

“Watch me.”

“Ironwood tried to kill you and was apparently ashamed enough by that fact that he pretended you had fled with the others.”

“Or he was afraid of how people would react,” Oscar counters. When Clover looks over at him, he pulls his legs up into his chest and turns away. “He thought I was Oz. He thought I was Oz all along.”

“Oh,” Clover manages. 

Qrow had skirted around the subject of Oscar and Ozpin when it came up, but Clover isn’t stupid. He’d gotten the gist: Oscar has the late Headmaster Ozpin stuck in his head, and after revealing himself to have lied to basically everyone about basically everything, Ozpin went completely silent.

“Ozpin is… gone, correct?” Clover offers after a moment.

“Not anymore,” Oscar says miserably. “He’s right here. Now he’s trying to apologize again, empty words as usual. Nothing you can say will make this right. You’ll just take my body like you took so many others.”

Clover realizes, if belatedly, that Oscar isn’t talking to him anymore. He hesitates, then rubs Oscar’s back wordlessly.

Oscar’s shoulders shake. “I don’t want to disappear. And I don’t want t-to just become another of your lives. I don’t—”

He stops, suddenly, apparently listening to Ozpin. Clover hesitates briefly, then puts an arm around his shoulders protectively.

“ _ How _ do I know you’re not lying  _ again?” _

Oscar takes a deep breath. “Right. Right. Okay.” He blinks hard, looks to Clover. “So he might be lying through his nonexistent teeth, as per usual. Or… we all might have been wrong about what this—” He gestures vaguely to his own head. “—meant.”

“Okay,” Clover says slowly. “Do you think he’s lying?”

“No. That’s the scariest part about this.” He pauses briefly, then nods, and gets to his feet. “Fine. Tell him  _ exactly _ what you told me.”

Oscar’s eyes flash gold. He stands a little straighter, a little taller, and Clover realizes this  _ isn’t _ Oscar. This is Ozpin.

“I will,” Ozpin says, “but I would like to ask him something myself first.”

Brief silence. Clover raises an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Ozpin agrees, and then turns his attention to Clover. “What are your intentions with Qrow?”

“What are your intentions with Oscar?” Clover counters before it hits him. “Wait. Are you trying to give me the talk? I’ve already gotten nine separate threats to break my legs and the only one I’m not sure about is Maria’s.”

Ozpin takes a seat on the couch, except where Oscar had been sitting on Clover’s right, Ozpin takes the left. He crosses his legs, steeples his fingers, and says, “While I may have bent the truth with regards to…  _ many _ things, for the greater good—we can agree to disagree on the specifics of the situation, Oscar—I have not lied about what happens during my… our… reincarnation. I presume Qrow filled you in to everything Jinn said?”

Everything, no. The gist, yes.

Clover nods. “So what happens? What happens to Oscar, specifically.”

“In our first reincarnation, it was only Ozma and Osbert, in Osbert’s body. After Salem murdered them, Osbert was reborn in that of Osmund. However, Osbert was not alone. When Osmund died, Osmund came to Osborne, but so did Osbert and Ozma.” Ozpin looks at Clover meaningfully. “I would hope I don’t have to continue all the way to the present day. You seem smart.”

“The original… Ozma is still there.” Clover pauses. “You’re saying that no one person you’ve… reincarnated into has disappeared entirely.”

“Indeed. Although some of us are…  _ much _ more active than others.” Ozpin smiles unhappily. “None of us can move on until Ozma does, and Ozma cannot until Salem is… defeated. Although  _ somebody _ agreed to the God of Light’s terms before learning what they  _ were _ , so it may not even be that.”

“Couldn’t you have used the Relic of Knowledge to ask what they were?”

Ozpin stops. Stares at him for a moment, and then _groans_. “This is not as funny as you think it is, Oscar— _not you too._ _You_ were perfectly capable of using the Relic in that manner too, Ozma. _This is not funny._ ”

“It kind of is.”

Ozpin glares at him and clears his throat. “The point is: you don’t have to worry about Oscar disappearing.  _ Not one of us _ has, and I am quite certain that  _ certain people _ would have if they could have, although  _ I _ won’t name names. Any more questions?”

“I feel like,” Clover says after a moment, “I’m not the one you should be telling this to.”

“Fair enough. Problem is, you’re the only one I can currently talk to  _ without _ being yelled at and people refusing to listen.”

Clover just gives him a look. 

“And there is an understandable reason for that,” Ozpin admits eventually. “I do, however, have my own reasons for wanting to talk to you. Your actions could be seen as just as much of a betrayal as mine were. How did you get them to trust you again?”

“So this isn’t the shovel talk,” Clover concludes.

“Ozma seems to think it is, and Ozma can shut it.”

“Well, alright.” Clover leans back on the couch, puts his arms behind his head, and looks at the ceiling. “I’ll tell you this: the thing about forgiveness is, it happens a lot easier if you  _ don’t _ expect it. You have to earn it, and what it takes to earn it’s different for everyone, but a good place to start would be making a plan that has a chance in hell of working. Alright?”

Ozpin’s eyes narrow, but he nods. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

His eyes flash gold, and it’s Oscar again.

* * *

They’ve done it. They’ve  _ actually _ done it.

Well, almost. Depending on your definition of  _ it. _ If by  _ it _ , you mean the group has made it to Salem’s castle, harried by Grimm and her people on all sides, then yes. They’ve done it. Unfortunately, getting there is only the beginning.

The  _ plan _ was to take as many people as possible in to fight Salem herself, but nobody was that optimistic even before they got here. The group had consisted of, to begin with: Teams RWBY, JNPR, SSSN, CFVY, Penny, Marrow, Qrow, Clover, and in a surprising turn of events, Theo.

Maria, their pilot, had stayed with the ship. While Maria seemed very confident she could keep any Grimm away through the sheer power of scrolling through pictures of baby animals, pretty much everyone else agreed that it might be a better idea to leave someone nearby to guard the ship.

Marrow volunteered to stay behind and guard their getaway vehicle, bringing their numbers down already. Then came the  _ swarms of Grimm _ the instant they stepped within a certain distance of the castle. Team SSSN leapt into battle against them, their former headmaster at their back, and the rest of the group pressed on.

Oscar and Team CFVY prepared to take on Hazel once and for all, and the rest of the group pressed on. Penny left for Cinder, Yang and Weiss for Mercury, and the rest of the group pressed on. Jaune charged Emerald, Ren and Nora right behind him, and the rest of the group pressed on.

Suddenly, the group was down to four, and then three as Watts showed his face just long enough for Blake to start chasing him down. But they were here. They were finally, finally here, at what looked like the doors to a great hall.

Qrow and Clover exchange glances as Ruby walks forward. She shifts Crescent Rose to her left hand, takes a deep breath, and shoves open the door.

Or she would, if a dark blur hadn’t leaped from the ceiling, knocking her back into Qrow and sending Crescent Rose flying. Her weapon lands with a clatter, and she quickly regains her footing.

“Behind us, Ruby,” Clover warns. She takes one look at their attacker and obliges.

_ “You,” _ Qrow says with no small amount of venom, which is honestly saying something considering who he’s saying it  _ to _ .

“Me. Surprise! Not  _ quite _ as dead as you hoped, hmm?” Tyrian cackles. “But I just can’t spare any longer to toy with your miserable little lives, I’m afraid. Our Goddess, her Grace, will only let one of you pass, and I think we  _ all _ know who that is.”

Ruby, having just picked up Crescent Rose, processes this. Her eyes go wide. “Me?”

“Who else?” Tyrian laughs.  _ “You _ may pass. Those with you? Well. I think I’ll have some  _ fun _ with the two of  _ you _ .”

Ruby’s gaze flicks uncertainly between Qrow, Clover, and Tyrian. 

Clover offers her an encouraging smile. “If it was that easy to kill either of us, it would have happened already.”

“We’ve got this,” Qrow says firmly. Harbinger shifts from its scythe form back into a sword. “Go kick Salem’s ass, Ruby. You’ve got the best chance of any of us.”

Ruby nods. Resolve fills her eyes. In an instant, she’s shifted into a burst of petals. She splits into three bursts briefly to go around Tyrian, and then shifts back into herself in front of the door. She turns back, grins, and opens the door.

Presumably she goes  _ into _ the door, and into the room beyond it, where an immortal witch waits. But Qrow is suddenly preoccupied by the murderous piece of shit charging for him. He raises Harbinger to block, twists in an attempt to disarm Tyrian. It’s futile, he’s got his weapons  _ strapped _ to his  _ arms _ because of fucking  _ course _ he does.

And then, his fucking  _ tail _ comes around.

Kingfisher’s hook catches it. Clover drags Tyrian back just enough by his tail that they’re no longer in deadlock, and Qrow takes the opportunity to get a solid hit in. Tyrian’s eyes glow pink. He jumps, using Harbinger as a springboard, and backflips towards Clover.

His weapons clash against Kingfisher. Clover realizes what he’s trying to do and ducks, just in time for his stinger to pass overhead.

“Been there, done that,  _ no _ thank you,” Clover says far too cheerfully for the circumstances. It’s not unwarranted: Tyrian’s between them now, right where they want him.

They trade blow after blow, strike after strike to no avail. Clover’s aura must be running low.  _ Tyrian’s _ aura must be running low. Qrow knows damn well his own is running low.

And then, suddenly, it happens. Either bad luck for Qrow, or good luck for Tyrian, he manages to rip Harbinger out of his grip and send it flying much the same way Crescent Rose had gone flying earlier. Tyrian flips Clover headfirst into the floor, breaking his aura. Clover doesn’t move, and in an instant Tyrian’s pounced on Qrow, sending them both sliding into a wall.

Qrow’s aura flickers and dies. Tyrian just  _ smiles. _ But his aura’s flickering, too. One good hit and his will be down too.

“Any last words? I’ll be sure to pass them on to the little rose. Assuming, of course, that our Goddess hasn’t already disposed of her.”

In the corner of his eye, he catches movement. Who else could it be besides Clover? 

_ Keep him talking. Just keep him talking. _

“Her name,” Qrow says through gritted teeth, “is Ruby. She’s stronger than I’ll ever be. If anyone can take on Salem and win, it’s her.”

“Oh, but don’t you see?  _ Nobody _ can defeat our Goddess! I almost want to keep you alive, just to see her bloody corpse… but it’s  _ much _ more satisfying to make  _ him _ watch you die.”

“Funny. I was about to tell you the same thing.”

Tyrian opens his mouth to retort, and Qrow knees him in the crotch. His aura goes down, and Tyrian stands up. He readies his blades. And, despite everything, he  _ laughs _ .

“I’ve always wondered what it felt like to die,” Tyrian says, right before his head’s cleaved from his shoulders by a clean swing of Harbinger.

“Guess you just found out,” Clover says as the now-headless Tyrian falls. He steps gingerly over the body, offers Qrow a hand. Then winces, drops Harbinger, and rubs the back of his head with his other. “I’m going to be feeling that tomorrow.”

Qrow takes it, lets Clover pull him to his feet. Concern fills his eyes. “I’m going after Ruby. Are you good to come?”

Clover collapses into Qrow’s arms, which answers that question. He mumbles, before Qrow can set him down anywhere, “Are you?”

Qrow hesitates, which should be an answer in itself. “I can still fight. I’m not leaving Ruby to do this alone. Stay here. I love you.”

He’s barely propped Clover up against the wall before the doors slam open again. All eyes go to the figure standing there, still holding her scythe. She takes in the situation, and looks relieved if physically and mentally exhausted.

“We’re done,” Ruby says quietly. “The world doesn’t need to fear Salem anymore.”

* * *

Salem might not be a problem anymore, but she’s never been the only one, and the Grimm are still bloodthirsty as ever. Theo took one look at the pools the Grimm were coming from and got an idea, so that might  _ not _ be as much of a problem in the future, but for the time being, there’s still a bigger problem than even the creatures of Grimm.

(Also, every time anyone asks Ruby  _ how _ she killed Salem, Ruby deflects the question. Multiple times. But she’s extremely insistent that Salem isn’t a threat any longer, and Qrow’s willing to trust her judgment.)

General James Ironwood. It’s been over a year since they left, and Amity clearly isn’t up because global communications are still down. If the military had continued with the planned timeframe for the Amity Project, it would have been up and running months ago. So if Amity isn’t complete, it’s for a reason.

Which is why the same group that left Atlas is, at long last, returning quietly to Mantle. A big group is what got Qrow and the kids caught the first time, so the plan was to have a small group head into the city, call Robyn, and take things from there. That, fortunately, went off without a hitch.

“Let me just say,” Robyn says wryly, “that if we thought General Tin Man had lost it  _ before _ you turned up?  _ Wow. _ He’s  _ really _ gone off the deep end and then some.”

May leans on the back of Robyn’s armchair on her elbows, starts to count things off on her fingers. “Round the clock curfew for all non-essential, and by that I mean anything that’s not work, food, or military, operations. Curfew for  _ everyone _ from dusk to dawn. He’s programmed his robots to shoot any of us on sight, as Joanna found out the hard way.”

Joanna waves from where she’s sitting on a beanbag in the corner, one arm in a sling.

“He also re-declared martial law, in case you were wondering where he got the authority to  _ do _ this shit,” Fiona supplies, rolling her eyes. “We had interim elections. Robyn was projected to win the seat,  _ obviously _ , so General Fuckface declared martial law and abolished the council before she could take it.”

“You can imagine how happy Camilla and Sleet are about that,” Robyn adds. “Plus side: we now have two very wealthy and very pissed off politicians on our side. Been a lot easy to stay off Ironwood’s radar with their support, even if I don’t necessarily like anyone who can make money out of politics.”

“Agreed,” Qrow mutters darkly.

“So what’s the plan?” Clover asks. “We took on Salem and won. We can handle Ironwood.”

Robyn smiles evilly. “I’m glad you asked.

* * *

“You know,” Qrow mutters, “I never thought I’d see the day I’d be  _ relieved _ you’re here.”

Winter quirks up an eyebrow. As she does so, her summoned beowolf shakes Ironwood roughly and spits him out onto the floor of his office. Clover kneels to check his pulse.

“Do you really want to antagonize me right now, Branwen?” Winter asks. She twirls Hippeastrum expertly, returning the second sword to the interior chamber of the first, then points it at him. The beowolf looks vaguely curious.

“No,” Qrow says.

“He’s dead,” Clover says, standing. “I think we can all agree that what happened here stays here.”

“We can agree on that,” Winter agrees, wiping the blood off her sword and sheathing it. “The details, in any case. Article I, Section 8 of the Atlesian Constitution states that if a majority of military officials serving directly under the general deem him mentally unfit for duty, they are empowered to remove him from office by any means necessary and proper. He refused to go quietly.”

“That he did,” Qrow says quietly. “It shouldn’t have had to end like this.”

“He intended,” Winter replies, “to execute my sister and your nieces for the sole act of voicing disagreement. I wish it hadn’t ended like this either, but it  _ was _ fully necessary. Now. With your departure, Ebi, the Ace Operatives unit no longer has a leader, but answers directly to Ironwood. This means that our options for his successor as general are myself, you, Zeki, Ederne, Bree, and Amin.”

“You’re asking for my endorsement,” Clover says.

Winter looks to her beowolf first. It dissolves into white dust, and only then does she turn to face him.

“I am. We both know that one of us would be the best choice for the job, and you don’t want it. Am I wrong?”

“No. You  _ do? _ ”

“No. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep my kingdom, and more importantly its people, safe. General Ironwood lost sight of that.”

Strangely enough, Clover looks at Qrow. “What do you think?”

“I’d say no if she wanted the job.” Qrow shrugs. “But yeah, you seem like a pretty good choice. I’d like to ask you some things, if you don’t mind.”

Winter sighs. “Is this really necessary?”

“He’s a better BS detector than I am,” Clover replies. “And I want to be sure I’m making the right choice.”

“Fair enough. Go ahead.”

“Are you going to reinstate the Atlesian Council?” Qrow asks, and receives a nod. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes. I will reinstate the Atlesian Council. Dismissing them was a mistake, and an action that normally should not have been accomplished without the agreement of two separate people.”

“So you’re going to separate the council seats belonging to the military and Atlas Academy again?”

“Yes.”

“Good. You mind telling me who you have in mind for the new headmaster?”

“You assume I’ve spent a significant amount of time thinking about this.” Even so, Winter’s face takes on a thoughtful expression briefly. “Clover Ebi, if you want the job.”

Clover starts. “I… would have to think about that myself.”

“Of course. It’s an important decision. I can have you reinstated as leader of the Ace Operatives or honorably discharged instead, if you would prefer.”

“Other options?” Qrow asks. If she says there aren’t any other options, so help him gods—

“Huntress Penny Polendina,” Winter says, “or Ace Operative Vine Zeki. Are you satisfied?”

“As much as I’ll ever be, considering my track record with the military.” He glances to Clover. “She’ll do.” 

Qrow pretends for the sake of Winter’s pride not to see the way she visibly relaxes. 

* * *

“Cloves, I need to know. What, exactly,” Qrow says quietly, “are you expecting to get out of this?”

“Closure,” Clover replies. He glances out the window and tries not to fidget. “We didn’t exactly part on good terms.”

“You threw me out a window, jumped out yourself, and Harriet shot you,” Marrow says. “I’d really,  _ really _ hope that wouldn’t qualify as parting on good terms.”

His scroll buzzes. Clover glances down at it and says, quietly, “They’re here.”

“I’ll be nearby.” Qrow gets up and scoots out of the booth, then pecks Clover on the cheek. “Keep in touch. Love you.”

“You too,” Clover says. 

Qrow winks, and he’s gone. If it wasn’t for them being in a rather crowded cafe at the moment, he would have sworn he went Crow Mode. No sooner has he disappeared into the crowd then Elm’s emerged from it, dragging Vine with her. She waves, and slides into the booth on one side. Vine takes the other, but not before stealing a chair from a nearby table.

“Hare’s coming?” Marrow asks. His tail starts to wag.

“Yeah,” Elm confirms. “She’s been running herself ragged lately, but she’s coming. The transition’s been hard on all of us.”

“General Schnee actually wanted us to ask,” Vine says after a moment, “whether you would be interested in rejoining the Ace Operatives, Marrow, and if you knew any other hunters that would be interested.”

Marrow freezes. “I don’t… know.”

“She doesn’t want me to rejoin?” Clover asks, and receives two nods in confirmation. “Works out. I’m a bit busy anyway.”

“I’m  _ sure. _ ” Elm waggles her eyebrows suggestively and leans in. “How’s the bird?”

“Few tables away, finishing his milkshake and probably glaring judgmentally in our direction. How’s the plant?”

Elm grins. “Oh, you know. Same old, same old. General still thinks he makes his memes on accident.”

“We shall see how long that continues.” Vine steeples his fingers appraisingly.

Despite the joking, the humor, you could still cut the tension with a knife. And then Harriet walks up. Looks at the empty seat, and at Clover, although she can’t seem to meet his eyes. Hesitates.

“It’s good to see you too, Hare,” Clover says with a smile.

Harriet takes the seat. “Hi. Sorry I’m late.”

“All good,” Marrow cuts in. “How are things?”

“Exhausting. Very.” Her gaze flits between Marrow and Clover, Marrow and Clover, until she eventually settles for staring at the blank wall between them. She lowers her voice. “How can you just… act like nothing happened?”

Marrow’s tail stops wagging. Elm and Vine exchange uncomfortable glances.

Clover winces. “I was hoping to at least wait until we got our milkshakes until we got to that. Food helps. And I’ve been told this place has the best milkshakes in all of Remnant.”

Speak of the devil, the waitress chooses then to emerge with a notepad. She starts with Marrow and moves counter-clockwise, so that Clover’s order winds up being taken last.

It’s only once she takes Clover’s, and leans in to take the menus, that she gets a good look at his face and recognizes him. Recognizes all of them, finally, despite the fact that not one of them is currently in uniform.

“You’re the Ace Ops,” she says aloud.

“Former,” Clover and Marrow say at the same time, and wince.

“Well, true. But you’ve all done so much to protect our kingdom. Atlas wouldn’t be the same without you.”

She heads off, and Harriet sinks lower in her chair.

“I’m sorry,” Harriet mumbles. “I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry. I panicked, and I let my emotions get the better of me, and frankly I should be dishonorably discharged for my actions.”

Elm frowns. She reaches around and rubs her back. “If you should be, all  _ three _ of us should be. We all agreed to do things that, thankfully, we never had to do.”

“But we could have. And none of you—” She can’t even say it. But she forces herself to meet Clover’s eyes again and says, firmly, “I’m sorry. You can take it or leave it and frankly I wouldn’t blame you for leaving it.”

“Alright.” Clover nods slowly. “I noticed you got a vanilla shake.”

“Vanilla’s good. Where are you going with this.”

He cracks a smile. “I’m glad we can still agree on that. Vanilla  _ is _ good. I just like raisins.”

“Raisins,” Elm cuts in, “are an affront against perfectly good grapes.”

“Grapes are good,” Vine agrees. “But I don’t see you putting grapes in your shake.”

Elm smacks his arm. And, as the group slowly falls into small talk and good natured arguing, the tension slowly, oh so slowly, begins to lessen.

The Ace Ops aren’t friends, and never have been. But maybe they can be, now that there’s no longer an invisible war to fight.

* * *

Qrow is pretty sure that when Oz gave him and Raven cool bird powers, this was the  _ absolute last thing _ he had in mind. But here he is. Frantically flying all the way back from Vacuo to Atlas, because of  _ course _ Theo had to call him up at the worst possible timing for help with an idea. It was a good idea, he’ll admit, but  _ terrible _ timing.

Harriet had  _ better _ have kept Clover occupied until he got back, otherwise forget the kids breaking Clover’s legs, he’ll break Harriet’s. He swoops down, scans the street. Deserted, unsurprisingly, which means either Harriet is still there or she bailed, and Qrow is  _ going _ to kill her if she bailed.

He dives, heading for the window he’d left open, and— _ SMACK. _

The next thing he knows, he’s inside, on the ground, on the carpet, and Harriet is poking him with a pencil. He’s also still a bird, but a quick change fixes that.

“I told you it was him,” Clover says all too cheerfully. 

Harriet sighs and passes him a lien note. “Remind me why I’m friends with you again?”

“That,” Qrow mumbles, “is a very good question. Ow. Fuck.”

“Are you okay?” Clover asks.

“He flew into the window, as a bird, and spent the last thirty minutes passed out in a box,” Harriet replies. “Still questioning the fact that your boyfriend can turn into a  _ bird _ . And flew into a window. Did you lose your depth perception, too?”

“Very funny, fuck off… I broke my nose, didn’t I.” Qrow earns a nod from Clover and a careless shrug from Harriet. “I’m going to go clean that up real quick. You mind watching him a bit longer?”

Harriet rolls her eyes. “Fine. Hurry up.”

At this point, the only thing keeping her here is  _ probably _ because she wants to see this happen. Or she wants to win a bet. One of the two, or possibly both. So Qrow hurries up. Heads to the bathroom of their apartment, forces his nose more or less back into place first of all. Then he glances at the door, still closed.

Satisfied, he kneels, reaches behind the toilet, and pulls out a small green box. He sticks it in his pocket, splashes some water in his eyes—he’s been flying all day, he’s  _ tired _ —and heads for the door. Except, before he does… he has an idea.

“Good, you’re back,” Harriet says immediately. “I was starting to think you’d run off and left me to babysit your boyfriend even  _ longer. _ ”

“You say that like I need babysitting,” Clover says.

“You do,” both Qrow and Harriet say instantly. They exchange a look.

“Huh,” Qrow says.

Harriet rolls her eyes. “Get on with it already, I don’t have all day.”

In the blink of an eye, Qrow’s a bird again, with something shiny in his beak. With a flap of his wings, he soars to Clover’s shoulder, and caws at him meaningfully. When Clover reaches up a hand, he drops the ring there, jumps off, and shifts back to his usual form.

Through sheer dumb luck, and probably the unintentional assistance of Clover’s semblance, he manages to shift back already down on one knee.

“Clover Ebi,” Qrow manages, and his voice cracks. “Fuck. Okay, so I had an entire speech planned, but I’m going to start crying too hard to say it all if I keep going with what I had planned. So the short version is, it’s been ten years since we met. To the day, when you and Hare and the rest of the goddamn Ace Ops arrested me and my kids. Thanks for that, Harriet.”

“You’re proposing to the person in charge back then, shut up.”

Qrow clears his throat awkwardly. “Right. We fought together, we lived together, we loved together. We stopped Salem. We stopped Ironwood. And while there’s no guarantee things will remain peaceful forever, when the shit hits the fan, there’s no one I’d rather be splattered with shit with than you.” He winces. “That last bit sounded better in my head. Anyway. Clover, will you… marry me?”

He looks up finally, only to see that his own eyes aren’t the only wet ones. Clover sniffles and says, oh so softly, “I’d be crazy not to. Lucky me, huh?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Qrow throws in a wink as he says, “Lucky  _ us _ if anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg it's done and my sleep schedule is even more screwed, what have I done. have I actually survived this? debatable. I'll get back to you on that tomorrow morning. I have a bad feeling I won't be getting anywhere near eight hours of sleep but I'll settle for any at this point.
> 
> whatever happened with Salem, who knows? it's all good. but she's probably not actually dead, considering. I had more fun with the Tyrian fight. 
> 
> Winter murdering Ironwood was not remotely planned, she just... did that. fun fact: article i, section 8 of the US constitution has a clause often referred to as the "necessary and proper clause." my gov teacher would be proud. I hope she's doing alright I haven't seen her in a while.
> 
> Headmistress Polendina was also not planned but very much appreciated. the shake place wasn't entirelyyyy based off steak n shake but like, I came up with the idea while there with some fellow theater kids so take that as you will. I'm pretty 
> 
> anyway! gonna take this opportunity to plug my other fic, [Vox Faunus](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22312813/chapters/53295703). it's a project I'm cowriting with Flamesong and while it's technically a crossover between RWBY and Warframe, you really don't need to know anything about Warframe to enjoy the story, you just need to know stuff about RWBY. it's got lots of fair game because I'm weak and a whole lot of canon divergence thanks to some angry faunus mine workers that are surprisingly uninvolved with the white fang (for now). if you liked this one, why not give Vox a go? :D
> 
> thanks for reading, y'all. this was a ride and an experience in both frankly concerning amounts of writing and royally screwing over my sleep schedule. plus side, is there really anything stopping me from becoming nocturnal at this point? hoo hoo, mofos. hoo hoo. :D
> 
> but really, thanks for reading. now to binge-read what everyone else has written for fg week... starting tomorrow. <3


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